12 May 2010

It always starts on an ordinary day in May...


It starts on an ordinary day in May. Each year, it surprises me. One moment I am walking, I am gardening, I am driving, I am playing with my children, and then.

Then, a single tear falls.

Falling quite suddenly out of nowhere really. It just appears on my face, and I can't quite figure out why.

And then.

Then.

A few days later, it happens again.

Only this time it doesn't really stop.

It keeps falling.

One after another.

Falling.

And then the flood arrives.
The tsunami.

And I remember.

May.

How many weeks do I have left?
How many days do I have left?

When was that moment when she stopped breathing?

Was it the evening of May 28, Wednesday, or the early morning of May 29, Thursday?

There is a fog, then in those days before and those days after.

There is a haze in the days of knowing she was alive and the days of knowing she was dead.

There was the day of knowing.
May 29.
There was the day of confirming what I'd dreaded knowing.
May 30.
There was the day of waiting.
May 31.
There was the day of delivery.
June 1.

And they are all there, the days stacked upon each other.

And I wonder, what day then is the day I mourn her death? What day then is the day I celebrate her birth.

It is not a day. It is not a moment.

It is a week of hell.
It is a week of trauma.
It is a week of remembering.
It is a week of Grace.
It is a month of Grace.
It is a lifetime without Grace.

And in these days and weeks leading up, it is a time of holding. Of wondering. Of pondering. Of wishing. Of pining.

And none of it ever goes away.

May comes. It is my roaring like a lion, and there is no exit like a lamb.

It is my lament.

It is my longing.

It is my emptiness.

It is my hole.

Tears fall.

Days pass.

June will come and Grace will still be missing.

My four-letter word:

Still.

My four letter word:

Born.

Still born.

Born still.

No matter where you put those words, no matter what order, they are without.

With and without.

Without Grace.

And with grace.

It starts with a single tear.

6 comments:

Kathryn @ Expectant Hearts said...

OH, Sarah, that's so beautifully written and shared.. Sept./Oct. does it for me.. I'll be thinking of and praying for you!

Barb said...

Sarah,

Grace should be proud to have you for a mother. Beautiful words, tender thoughts, so full of love

sbain said...

Kathryn, my love to you always. And remembering.

And Barb...thank you. It means more than you can know.

Terry said...

May.
I love you.

Dr. Joanne Cacciatore said...

Sarah- beautiful, heart wrenching... bittersweet.

Holding our Grace in my heart.

sbain said...

Joanne, I am trying to wait patiently for September. I really am. But now that May is here, I am wishing I was headed to AZ in May. I am wishing. I am waiting. I am MISSing.