Sometimes I miss it

Life these days has a certain rhythm.  I don't sit around watching the clock anymore, counting the hours before I get to go back to sleep.  I don't get to spend all day in bed, blocking out the world around me.  I spend most of the day working, popping occasionally into Mo's room, where he plays with his nanny, so that I can give him kisses.  I cook dinner and make Ted's lunches and get excited about watching our shows at night.  My life is no longer devoted to grief.

It is MUCH more liveable.

And so I wonder why - sometimes I miss it.  I miss being completely engrossed in Max not being here.  I was completely committed, heart and soul, to grieving his death.  I cried most of the day, each and every day - my head hurt from all of the crying - my body hurt from shaking with anger and disbelief.  Max was the center of my universe in his life and in his death.  And, it isn't only that I feel like I am betraying him when I am not exhausted with grief, it's that I feel completely inauthentic to my feelings about his not being here.  Something about that time was a completely pure expression of my core self - which feels empty in his absence.

Mo's presence ushered in a new force - that was and is equally and as completely pure and real - which is total joyfulness. And I feel just as much myself in a fit of laughter now as I did with the covers pulled over my head.  And, I am strangely as comfortable with both expressions of my new self.  Panic, disorder, hopelessness and grief feel just as natural for me as joy, laughter, and love. 

At the core - these emotions are fighting with each other.  The easier road - the path of surrender for me often feels like the side of myself that wants to cry all day every day and shout at the heavens "WHY MY MAX?!!!!!".  The strength that it takes at the start of every single day to focus on the positive doesn't come easy.  I have had to work hard.  Honestly.  It's been such hard work.  But, then I see his smiling face, and I kiss his perfect cheeks and the rest of the day usually falls into a rhythm of joy.  And, even though I am grateful - sometimes I miss the anguish - almost as much as I miss my Max.

Joy!  Brought to us every day by this little person.

Mo is so special