See
Go.
I see my babies. Especially my girls. In whatever they do. They fight just like they were 3 and 5, but they are 10 and 12 now. They play just like they were 3 and 5. They talk, sometimes, just like they were 3 and 5. It makes me giggle. A little more dramatic, a little bit older concepts. But same tone and same hand gestures and body language. I love it.
Pain. I look at pictures and I could tell you whether the picture was taken before Chase died or after, just by the eyes and the mouth. Our smiles are not the same. Our eyes are not the same. And everything behind it, too. The smiles are back, but they are different now. The pictures immediately after Chase's death are painful to look at. I didn't take very many for several weeks after. The few I did, though, show great pain in them. A very deep sadness. Even in my littlest one. Just turned four, the blank, dull expressions speak volumes to me now.
Beauty. I see beauty with much more profoundness now. I appreciate the beauty, where it originated, where it is and where it is going. A sunset, a rainbow, a storm. Each has it's own perfect beauty.
When I look at something, I see it so much better now. And ironically, my eyesight is getting worse! But I really look these days. I see past the surface....or at least try to.
STOP.
This was beautiful! I feel the pain of your loss. My oldest child was damaged at birth, too, but she survived. She is almost 24 now. While we have her here with us, the dream of the child I would have died. Different deaths but oh so similar. (Visiting from Five Minute Friday.)
ReplyDeleteOh, dear one. I have walked with close friends through the death of a baby and there are simply no words. May you know the Father's love- and may you flourish in your ability to see beauty. Seeing past the surface <-- may we all do this!
ReplyDelete