I love to talk about Logan.
I get the feeling from some folks that he's a taboo subject, never to be brought up. That couldn't possibly be further from the truth. He's one of my favorite subjects. I like to talk about who he was, what he loved, where he is now, what I think he'd be doing if he were still here... all of it.
It's painful when I say his name and other people go silent. I see their eyes dart around uncomfortably. Then they usually change the subject, or just leave it up to me to fill the airspace. He's not taboo. He's not this untouchable thing. He's my kid. He's alive in my heart. And knowing that other people remember him... well, that's like gold to me. I don't get the dance recitals or little league games or report cards or playdates. All I have are memories to keep him alive.
That was rambly, huh? I haven't felt as poetic as usual lately. I've felt decidedly more... blunt. I love pretty words, crafting sentences and manipulating the musical ebb and flow of the written word. But sometimes, things just need to be said --and understood-- with no other pretense.
Sherry, as a mom who's lost babies, I understand. I always felt I didn't have as much right to miss my girls as I would had they "really been born" that they were some how less real because they died in utero. In time, I've come to see that the doubts are inside me(and as Christians, we know who is the source of self-doubt, fear and shame).
ReplyDeleteWhen other people get that shifty-eyed look, I'm beginning to see that they aren't uncomfortable about me mentioning Mary Therese and Isobella Raine as they are uncomfortable with how very sad my grief makes them. I'm not saying people always react as they should or could (even those we should be able to expect support from). I think it's self-conciousness and feeling of helpless you're seeing, not discomfort with you.
Sometimes, I get compassion from the most surprising places. I shared at an IWW union meeting with some radical activists who are militantly pro-abortion. It's not that I thought they wouldn't be compassionate, I just thought baby talk might make them feel uncomfortable. One guy literally cried after I told my story.
Commenting on your blog, just now, my 15-year-old came in. She said, "Oh I remember him. Nice to see his mom keeps up with his blog."
There is solidarity out there, Sherry and I hope you find it. Your grief is still so new, so it's harder to see. This awareness took me years to find.
Amen! You said it perfectly, rambling or not. Amen!
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