Saturday, October 4, 2014

 I went to my special needs support group the other night. I have been having dinner with these ladies for a few years now. Their children's ailments range all over the place,  from seizures and genetic conditions to autism. It is an amazing group to belong to and I am still glad that they have me even though I am not technically in the special need community anymore.  This past time was a smaller group, only four of us were able to make it. A mother whose son suffers with seizures, a mother whose son has a genetic condition that she has no idea what his future will look like and finally a mother who lost her little girl just the month before I lost Lila. As we talked and tried to console each other the other grieving mother said she feels broken. I thought that was as good of word as any. I am Broken. I sat and cried as I told the mothers that such a huge piece of my soul is missing. How can anyone carry on?!?! No really? How does a mother whose very life is dedicated to her children ever survive the passing of such a beloved daughter? How was I doing it? How am I breathing and playing with Ruby and still laughing with Quinn? How can any of this be possible? I realized that as I was talking to these women that maybe my Lila was taking care of me now. Maybe she is with me more than I know. Maybe she holds me up during the day and lays by my side each night, maybe she whispers encouragement to my heart to keep beating. Maybe she sit with me in those quiet moments when I sob and say her name. Maybe...... How else can I still be functioning? I read book about the other side and it says that the departed are so busy. Hurrying around getting ready for the second coming. This terrifies me that my girl is too busy to miss me. I know that that is extremely selfish. I should be so happy that she is happy and busy and doesn't have time to miss me. But it doesn't. I want her to miss me just a fraction of how much I am missing her. So the idea of my daughter concerned about me and how I am coping without her brings me comfort. I think she must be with me. She must still be with my soul.

Later in the night one of the mothers was talking about an article that she read that talked about a hospice worker and his experience with spending time with those about to die. He said he would asked them if you could do your life over what would you change. The usual things tended to keep coming up; spending more time with family, not worrying about trivial matters, enjoying the small things in life, having a better outlook and attitude.  My friend then went on to say that she thought that we had been given such a gift in our children because we don't have to wait till our deathbeds to realize that these are the most important things in our lives. We know our time is limited and it is precious, we realize that a simple smile is more treasured than a large home or a fancy car, we have a deep understanding that family is the most important thing. We don't have the luxury of taking any of it for granted. What an amazing gift.

Its hard for me at times to see past my grief and see all of this, every part of it as a dear and precious gift. I got to have the most amazing and beautiful little spirit in my home for four years. I got to love and kiss and make laugh a true angel. For four years I had the most amazing teacher in my home, who taught me patience, true love, humility, grace and about mercy. I had one of God's supreme children in my home. I got to have her. I should be grateful for just that simple sentence. I got to have her. And I am. I am so grateful. I am grateful for everything that Lila has taught me and all that she is still teaching me, that even in unfathomable loss and despair that there is still somehow and unexplainably comfort and peace.

1 comment:

Barb said...

Kristi, you are so eloquent you could write a book. What a beautiful thought to think of Lila caring for you as you go about your day, easing your burden of grief just a little bit.