Silenced

I have been silenced, and I am asking God to help me figure out why...well, I know why, but I want to do more. I want to attend some of the functions we get invited to, I want to respond to e-mails, I want to dance again, sing again, FEEL something again. This numbness comes over me and lasts for days and days, and sometimes weeks and weeks. What is it? Is it a new phase of grief, of mourning, of the desperate soul of a mother who goes to the cemetery to lay tulips on her child's grave for Mother's Day, is it the time of year when young adults her age are graduating, setting course for their own lives, is it looking into the faces of family photos and still seeking to find that smile? Is it the reminder that just seven short years ago she received her diploma and graduated from high school, and within four years she was gone? Where does the complexity come from and how can I keep going on when I am numb, stuck, whirling and restless? Is it May or is it the threshold of summer?

I waver. I find strength to do the things I must, and to do the things I choose to do. And even in that I have never known such emotional exhaustion. I watch the television realizing that I have to rewind or finish it later because I haven't heard a thing. I ask God every day, more than once, to help me "be present", right where I am, not looking back, not looking ahead. Being present is a gift to myself and I work very diligently at it, and have since the moment her hand fell from my heart, her last breath taking the very life away. I strive to be where I am, at that moment, for I know like I never thought I would, that the next minute is not promised. Still, as "present" as I am, I am numb and I am weak, and I need God to help me breathe.

As the celebrations intensify, the graduations, the weddings, the parties, the summer plans, Mother's Day and Father's Day, my birthday, her dad's birthday, I know I will move through them. But as I do so, each day is different, each time is different. I have those who have shared that I was so strong for so long and now it is time to grieve. I want them to know I have been grieving all along, it just looks different along the way. It looks different on any given day, any given circumstance, any given moment. It rips you to shreds one moment, and in the next allows you to understand why God works the way He does, that I am alive for a purpose, and that she is gone for hers, for His, really.

Still, I am silenced. And others do not understand. Because I have participated, shown up, attended, laughed, appeared strong, now, there is confusion. And I understand. Because I am confused! I don't know this stage. I don't recognize myself in the mirror. I can barely select a gift for the baby shower, the wedding reception, the graduation, the retirement. I can only pray that those who mean so much to me don't look at my silence as rejection. I can only hope they don't take it personally. I can only hope they never, ever know this pain, this cry of the heart that never stops, this silence. It is my desire that they never know how much energy it takes to pick up the phone, answer a complete thought, write the e-mail, or attend the function. God knows I hope they don't know, but in some small way, I wish they did, not by losing a child, but just by asking me, for if they did, then the comments wouldn't come, the judgments wouldn't be made, the statements wouldn't hurt.

I don't want to be silenced. But I am, at times. Other times, I am not. I don't know about living with this thing called grief, and I certainly don't know anything about living without my child. In my silence, there is much to say, my heart holds so much. I am weak but I am strong, isn't that what God knows us to be? I pray for strength during times of silence, and I know that I will find my voice, my spirit, my will, God will see to that.