Tuesday, November 24, 2009
My Quilt of Comfort
When I started blogging in February, I did it as a way to remember our son, to keep him present with us daily through pictures and memories. Grief is full of turmoil and it's an agonizing and isolating experience. I found I could process some of my painful feelings through the blog and also interact with others on a simple level. It allowed me to keep facing and processing my grief, instead of running and hiding. I knew I would wear out those closest to me if they had to listen to my grief every day. With the blog, I could write it and they could choose to read it or not, and it relieved my sense of being a burden.
I had no idea that it would turn out to be such a place of healing for me. I also didn't anticipate that I would meet other grieving mothers also walking this same heartbroken journey. These women, only two of whom I've actually met in person, are such a help to me--Gannet Girl, Karen G., Chris, Mary Beth, Sharon, Ruthie, Jenny, Kay, and Caitsmom, and others that I am still getting to know. They are all women of faith who, like me, are trying to come to terms with an upside-down world, an empty place, a trauma, and an aching loss that will never be fixed till this life is over. We weep together and are writing our own book of Lamentations.
These women are mirrors to my own heart, and like members of a support group who tailgate on one another's insights, they write eloquently about feelings that I often can't put into words. Sometimes they express angry feelings, sometimes they are wrestling with unanswered questions, often they are forlorn and full of longing. Other times they inspire me and build my faith and hope in God. At all times, they understand, support, and remove me from the lonely icy cold of isolation. They don't rush me, they don't judge me, and they don't roll their eyes. They don't get tired of hearing about the pain that never leaves my heart.
So this Thanksgiving, I send a very big hug and thank you to all of them. They are my patchwork quilt of comfort, for which I am truly, deeply, incredibly thankful this year.