Trying

Yesterday I wrote about how wonderful this vacation is....and it is.  We needed it.  But, I messed up again.  When I have a "good day", I worry that you think I am happy now.  I promised Ted that I would enjoy this vacation, because we have the rest of our lives to continue grieving.  I can't believe that it is possible, but I actually am enjoying it.  But "enjoying" isn't easy, like it once was.  It is taking all of my strength to just relax and relish the time I have here with my beloved husband.  I am pushing down so many feelings.  I feel like a boiling pot with a pressure cooker lid and I worry that the second we get home, I am going to explode.  I am trying so hard to tell you how AWFUL this all is, but to let you know that I am TRYING.  I am trying so hard to be patient. Trying so hard to believe that he is in the next world, waiting for me, and that we will be together again.  Trying to believe that every day I am one day closer to him, but it isn't enough.  I remember sharing a room with a colleague on a trip to Israel several years ago.  She was having a hard time enjoying the experience of being away because she missed her children so much.  That was a 6 day trip.  This is a lifetime.  A LIFETIME.  It is so unreal...and yet, this is my reality.  It's never been MORE real than this before.  And, as if the waiting wasn't enough (and it IS!), I have no idea if I will ever really see and be with him again.  I have no idea where he went and if I will be sent to the same place.  I am desperate for answers and faith just isn't good enough, because, you see, he is my baby.  He is my most precious person and having faith that you will be with your child again one day just doesn't cut it.  I know that in some way, I will get through this life without him even though it is next to impossible, but more than half of the tears I cry each day are for the life he won't have here.  I worry about him so much.  If he isn't where I am going, how will I check up on him?

I am searching high and low.  I find myself looking up at the stars and the clouds for answers.  They just mock me - sparkling, floating.  They don't even notice I am here.  I am a speck of dust to them.  I have been to therapists and grief counselors, and mediums and psychics and spiritual gurus and reiki masters and healers and everyone tells me to hang on, he is waiting for me.  But nobody really knows.  Everyone's just guessing.  And it isn't good enough.  For weeks, he visited me in my dreams, and then he stopped.  I don't know why.  He stopped visiting me when I fell back into the pit.  Just like his presence disappeared after I lost control of my own body in NY on the day of Beth's Marathon.  I beg him to come to me every night before I go to sleep.  Beg for him to visit me in my dreams, beg for him to come back to me in the form of his little brother.  But, two nights ago, I dreamt someone told me I had a bad haircut and something about making a sandwich.  Having a meaningless dream feels like an enormous waste of time to me!  I NEED him back at night.  It's my only hope.  Last night I dreamt about other tragedies and losing other babies.  Oh please god - what are you trying to tell me?  Sometimes I wake up and I feel like god has been whispering the secrets of the universe into my ears while I slept, but I can't remember one word he said and I am crushed.  Please come back and tell me again tonight!  I promise that I will listen.  I won't dream about sandwiches and haircuts - you will have my undivided attention!  I need a message - a sign.  Even though I receive signs all of time, somehow they aren't enough...because we are talking about my child here.  Unless I can put my lips on his cheeks and smell the warmth of his neck, I won't believe.  So, I wake up, day after day with this longing in my heart and all of these questions still unanswered.  The pain is so large, I have no idea how I am able to contain it.  You wouldn't be able to contain it, I promise.

On our first night here Ted wanted to swim in the ocean.  "Please don't go!", I begged him.  The waters looked rough and he had been drinking.  I probably sounded a little too desperate.  But, I know if I lost him also, I'd be lost forever.  Just an hour before, I'd been thinking of swimming in the ocean too.  Swimming out and out and out and just continuing to swim until my body gave up and I was gone.  I worried he'd had the same thought as me.  I couldn't let him go where I wanted to go.  I couldn't let him meet Max without me.  We've both got to stick around to meet Baby M.  He is counting on us.  I keep thinking that when he gets here, he might have some answers for me.  Like, how his big brother is doing.  Does he love me nearly as much as I love him?  Sometimes I worry that Max didn't feel the love that we felt and that's why he left us.  Maybe he didn't know that he was our whole world.  Anyway, it wasn't his job to love.  He was just a baby.  It was his job to be loved and he was.  He was loved.  He was loved with all of our hearts.  He was loved strongly and deeply.  He is still loved.  He will always be loved.  You're never more than one thought away, Maxie.  Please visit me in my dreams again, my monkey.  I am breaking.