I have to first say what a joy and relief it was this week to be with my husband and kids for a whole week with no agenda. (And to sleep!) It was like a vacation just being able to co parent together and laugh, we laughed so much. I even went to a yoga class all on my own with one of my favorite teachers, it was such a treat.
It seems I sway bi polarly in intense extremes between loving my body and being so frustrated at not being at a different point along this journey physically. The scale just won’t dip past 170 despite my avoidance of the lattes. Then I look a little deeper and it’s never really about that.
Lia has been asking tough questions lately about death and what happens. Those big questions that no one has answers for. My little turkey boy would have been one around this time. It’s an ache buried and embedded in so much joy. I looked at my son on thanksgiving and squeezed him tight. I feel so lucky to know my children and yet I think of my son that I knew if only briefly. How do you get over the pain of knowing someone only from the inside, knowing but never meeting? I think of those long heavy steps we took from the ER doors to our car and the hollow empty feeling that came with it. I was a mother again but didn’t know where my child was. I wonder would it have been better to see him? To take him with us? I know we did what in the moment felt best, and right. It was all so surreal. I wonder is he with my dad? Is my dad still old and overweight, is my child still a baby on that other side? Are they children together playing and laughing? Grief comes at such odd times. I know there is nothing I could have done and yet I feel responsible. So the work this week has been sitting with all that and mostly not so gracefully. And then tonight I taught a very serendipitous yoga class and for the first time in a long time felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be and it made my bruised heart smile.