In an instant everything changed. Our children who we were happily co-parenting were thrown into an abyss of shock and pain. Our colorful and contented world went dark and dismal. The busy, but manageable pace of our lives went into frenetic overload as we planned Amy’s memorial, spread the sad word to friends and family, sorted through the 14 years she spent in her home, got back to the day to day of our lives – work, school, running a household, and mostly, remembered to breathe.
Friends and family flocked from all directions, providing their
support, helping with logistics, bringing food to remove the burden of cooking
and help us through the immediate period of shock, caring for our animals so
they wouldn’t be forgotten in the shuffle, and taking over the reins when each
of us, in turn, crumbled to the floor in grief.
We were literally surrounded by kind people and generous acts.
In the past five weeks, emotions have ranged from utter shock and
disbelief, excruciating loss, and a punch-to-the-gut grief to deep gratitude
and even a sense of protection. To be
specific, I felt gratitude and protection.
These two feelings seemed at complete odds to what I ‘should’ be
feeling. Gratitude and protection.
Bit by bit, my children and I are coming to find our new normal. We are adjusting to being together full time
instead of the 50/50 custody split my ex and I had shared. We are bringing together the children’s
belongings into one home. We are facing
the holidays with a bit of dismay at the absence of a woman, a mother, who was
always there and often taken for granted, because that’s what people do with
those they love most.
And yet, the sense of gratitude and protection persists.
Today is Thanksgiving. We are
spending it as a family and, in spite of the gaping hole left by Amy’s absence,
I feel so utterly grateful. I am
grateful for the children we had together.
I am thankful for the welcoming home in which we live. I laugh heartily at the stories told about
Amy, a woman who had a delightful and self-deprecating sense of humor. Words can hardly express how much gratitude I
have because Amy and I found deep peace and a renewed friendship after so many
years of post-separation fighting. I am
joyful today and yet my heart twists in guilt that I can feel joyful so shortly
after her death. But I am joyful, all
the same.
Earlier today, my children woke and came to the living room in their
pajamas, eyes puffy from their pillows, and sweetly smelling of their sleep. They saw the fire I had lit in the grate, smelled
the sausage I had cooked to make one of their favorite breakfasts and heard my
happy “good morning dearest son and daughter!” They smiled and I knew, if only
for a moment, amidst the grief at the loss of their other mother, they were grateful
too. In this moment, there was no guilt at
feeling joy and I realized that this is what Amy would have wanted. She would have wanted to be remembered, but
for life to go on with all its joys, trials, lessons, victories, and
traditions. Today, we will light a
candle for her and say a prayer of gratitude for having had her in our
lives. She left her mark on the world in
her own unique way and our family was forever improved by her influence.
Happy Thanksgiving from our grateful family to yours!
~ Mk Michaels, 2013
