I’m not sure that there is any way to ever get around the fact that it’s just always there. It doesn’t take much encouragement to get it to bubble over and become evident to all; and it doesn’t always have a timeline as to how long it wants to stay above everything else. What is it? It’s the sadness, the sickness, the stomach turning, the emptiness, the questions, the lost hopes, and the wanted expectations.

As Ahna and I both conclude our first full and complete weeks back to work, I think that we can both attest to the idea that even over the course of just a few days, being there has gotten a little easier – whatever that means. Easier isn’t the right word to describe it, but there really isn’t another word that works as well. As the days go by at work, it’s a lot like loosing that sense of newness when you get that long awaited thing: it just becomes the normal instead of something that you are trying to figure out. But it’s always just below the surface.

Recently I was at work and sat through a lecture on thoracic anatomy and physiology and found myself struggling as I thought about Liam. There wasn’t any direct correlation, but as we are both discovering, it really doesn’t take a direct connection. As a matter of fact, it doesn’t take a connection at all….it just happens.  We walk around kind of propped up by life, but weighed down by experience and ready to burst at the seams at any random time and place. Containing it is a necessary evil at times, but we have been able to find the ability to express in each other our feelings when we need to the most. But it’s always just below the surface.

In the traditional Jewish style of mourning, Shloshim is the 30-day post burial mourning period. Following those traditional rules of religious observation (which we don’t in this case), a person in mourning is restricted from doing and participating in a lot of different things (like work, cooking, exercise, etc). Following the completion of the 30 days, you are again allowed to ‘reenter’ life and all of the normal things that you would have been doing.

This morning we held a small service with the Rabbi at Liam’s grave side to mark the 30 day point. There were a few readings, and a prayer or two; but the idea of the ending of a period of mourning just doesn’t really seem applicable. It’s impossible to put emotions into a neatly wrapped calendar that starts and ends on a lunar cycle. Some of these anniversary or time markers are real and some are constructed – but they all are emotionally heavy and complete with sadness.

Both of us have re-engaged work and projects that were in progress when Liam was born. We have started to move Ezra along the path of growing from a  toddler to a boy (working on loosing the pacifier and starting potty training). But we also still occasionally run into someone that knew we were expecting, but doesn’t know what happened. And each time that this happens, raw feelings are immediately brought back to the surface. Two steps forward forward, one step back. One step forward, two steps back.

So, here’s to day number 31 and whatever it might bring with it.

This just isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.

https://ourlittlehippie.com/2011/03/14/4376/

Never having had Liam at home with us is turning out to be a challenge all on it’s own. We find that it’s really easy to let life sweep us along and to get lost in what it has to offer: the simple day-to-day tasks of being a husband/wife/parent/friend. By spending the two months in the hospital with Liam, it now sometimes feels like a trip; a place that we went to, met someone new, said goodbye and have returned to our normal lives.

All of the memories that we have created with Liam have been framed and set inside of the hospital room….we don’t have any memories that use our house as the setting. And while both of us agree that this scenario is proving to be the best for Ezra, it is also hard for us. It’s not like we can go up to Liam’s room and sit there for a while, or we can’t pick up something that we played with/on – because it’s all in the hospital.

We walk around the house and are reminded of Liam through the wristbands that we are still sporting, or the pictures that we have of him, or the medical bills that are coming in, or by the cards and notes that we are getting from you – but we are lacking the physical memories, and that is difficult. Most of the time, it means that we are struck suddenly with a moment of emotion rather than a slowly rising tide.

For Ezra, we made book of photos of Liam so he could go to it whenever he wanted to be reminded. It came in the mail today and looks amazing – ordered it through Apple and would highly recommend the same process for anyone else. It’s hardcover with thick pages and lots of photos; hopefully something that he can have for a long time. Ahna and I took some time to look through it before we gave it to Ezra, and it hit us kind of hard: all we wanted to do was reach into the photos and grab Liam for a few minutes. It was the first time that we have had large color photos of him around – ones that are more of life than they are of the art or abstract.

Perhaps the book will help us find a place to go to whenever we need to spend some time with Liam, but it’s still different to visit through a photo versus visiting through a place.