Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Weathering Months

Weathering months.

   I read a blog the other day written by a women who grieves and she talked about learning to weather the month of June. I know about weathering months. I have learned the steps and plodded through them. The months when I am sort of undone and I have to stretch my hands wide open and up. I have March when the sky is gray and the trees are bare and I search for light. I have June, the 1st day of glorious summer, when life is new and the sky is beautiful blue here in Carolina. I have days when I remember and days I dread. August is my double month. I have a birthday: when he flew from my womb and it was all hot and it burned like fire and I ached for days after. He was covered in vernix and was all silver hair and big eyes. I loved him then; more than words. I also have the day his brother died: the day he flew from this life and his leaving burned like fire and I ached for days and weeks. Years later I still ache and I remember that burn. I loved him more than words and time. I have learned to weather, we all have to some extent and some of us do it with grace and some of us like myself are still walking clumsily and off kilter. It is beautiful this weathering process.
  The other Saturday morning I heard sirens far away. Often when I hear them I say “God bless them” because I know that someone is beginning a journey that I know well. I went on with my day and later I got a message saying there was a fire. I got a phone call in the afternoon that there was bad fire and it was in a mobile home and some children had died. I read once that if there is a fire in a mobile home you have 3 minutes to get out. This time 3 minutes was not enough time at all. A mother who is 8 months pregnant was sleeping and her little boys were playing. That morning she woke to something too terrible for words. Her 2 little boys are gone and she is left here. I know that feeling too. This month of July will be a month she has to weather and wade through for the rest of her life. I know that her burning ache began that morning and our whole area feels it with her. When we drove to church on Sunday we passed the house. We were silent in the van. In the middle of the fire and the burned things is a little bunk bed. The bed is metal and the mattresses are gone and the frame is bent. I can’t look at it without the breathe catching in my throat. It is worthy of a picture; those kind that speak 1000 words. I think about her often. I breathe her in prayer. At church on Sunday I thought about her and my eyelids burned with tears because she is feeling that aching burning missing her boys that I know so well. Her pregnant body is holding life. She is broken and she will push a baby from her womb and it will burn like fire and she will love that precious baby more than words and the ache of motherhood will begin again.
   I weather months. In a cupboard up high I have a bag. In the bag are a small pair of Levi’s, they have holes in the knees and they are cut apart. They used to fit my son. The paramedics cut them off his small body the day he died. I have never taken them out of the bag but every once in a while I look at them when I am feeling brave and I remember the day I began to burn like fire and this ache became mine. That young mom down the road will now weather months. Birth dates and death dates that she will dread and wait for and plod through. Someday she will laugh again. Someday when the weathering is easier her eyes will have light again. She will learn to have Hope and know how important it is to hold on too. She might hold a small shoe in her hands and feel her boys for a little while. She might touch a blanket  and hold it to her chest because she knows how great the cost is. I know her boys are whole today, safe in the Father’s house. I know she is broken and her grief road will not be the same as mine. I also know that she will take shakey steps forward and she will weather July. I pray she can one day do it with grace. God bless all people who grieve and deal with great loss. We weather these months with you. My August is not burning like fire or aching like it used to be but I do weather it; every single year and I miss my boys. I love them more than words and time.


Jen said...

2Eve, my calendar has hearts, 2 in Feb & 1 in Aug, a half finished quilt lays rolled up my shelf and little shoes that were never worn anywhere but in the echo of my mind, and a small white cross sits in my garden to remember only the days of death and that Heaven holds so much that I long for. In all that I praise my Loving Father. From my heart to yours, Jen

boysinheaven said...

oh Jenn. I know. Bless you sweet momma. Those sounds echoing are mighty loud aren't they? Some glad day we get to see those beautiful babies!