Love Always

It has been quite a process.  Can I see myself the way love sees me?

Because I love my sons, I pulled myself out of the darkest moments of grief.  I have to tend to their ever-demanding needs, without a break.  I have allowed myself to laugh at their silliness and marvel at their innocence.  I am forced to keep going, with school, and trips to the museum, and birthday parties, and messy rooms.  I do it all willingly, because I love them.

Because I love my daughters, they ever-present in my life.  Even though they are gone, I have daily reminders.  It is the ring I wear, inscribed with their names.  It is the silver frames that encircle their tiny footprints.  It is the canvas of irises that hangs on the wall next to the head of my bed, greeting me when I wake up.  I keep them close, because I love them.

Because I love my husband, I am sorry for what I have put him through. My body failed and it caused him pain that he does not deserve.  I accept his anger at the situation. I accept that we are in different places of grieving.  I lean on him to hold me up.  I know we will emerge, because I love him.

Because I love my friends, I can reach out to them for steadiness.  I know that different friends full different needs, whether it be a listening ear, a distraction, a voice of reason, or a gesture of caring.  I have nurtured these relationships for years, and they nurture me back. I know they will continue to feed my spirit, because I love them.

Because I love my mind, I have tried to keep it healthy.  Therapy keeps me grounded.  Work keeps me engaged.  I let it weep when missing my girls becomes too hard to contain.  I allow moments of escape, a reprieve from the incessant running of thoughts, because I love my mind.

Because I love my body, I have tried to keep it healthy also.  Yoga provides necessary stretch and flexibility.  Essential oils and Epsom salt baths calm my shaking anxiety.  I need my body for a long time, so I need to take care of it. I am trying to move past my inability to carry these two pregnancies, and learn to keep loving my body.

Because I love my soul, I want it to heal.  Fragility requires tenderness.  Strength is not innate; it requires practice and determination.  I will slowly flex the muscles of my soul, stretching it to new positions, overcoming the resistance, because I love my soul.

Because I love my life, I have stopped searching for an explanation. There isn’t one.   Moving forward requires acceptance of what I cannot control and cannot change.  I strain to remove the bitterness from my acceptance.  Joy and grieving continue in a flowing duet, because I love my life.

I write, to give an outlet to my acceptance journey, no matter how winding, because I love my life.