I have learned to enjoy the smile on a loved one's face so much more. When those I love are happy, I am happy. When those I care for share an expression of joy and happiness, I am content. When a real smile comes across the face of someone near and dear, there is no greater gift. It's true and honest when a face lights up and breaks into a smile, not the posed look for a photo as one stares into the camera lense, but the the true spirit shining through.
It is no exaggeration to say that Allison always had a smile on her face. From the moment she was born, and this is no fabrication, she smiled. And she made us laugh. All of her life, from start to finish. At times she knew that smile could get her anything she wanted, she knew she was cute and had a winning way with just about everyone. I can only imagine the way she would "use" that smile to her advantage with the young men she dated, but I don't want to know!
There is not one picture that I have ever found of her where she was not smiling! And not one memory without that beam and glow in her eye, except of course, those weeks when cancer invaded and pain set in...but even then, she found her way. Her last visit with my sister, she put an ice pack over her bald head and tied it under her chin, grinning from ear to ear as she sat up in a hospital bed, the medications finally doing what was needed to help the pain subside. She had the look of an angel, truly. She glowed. Now we know why, she was gone in nine days, NINE days. And almost to the end, she was smiling.
I am trying to capture that smile today. Something my sister said to me yesterday, as she is desperately trying to put some of the pieces of her life in a new puzzle, reminded me of where I once was in my grief. She is trying to hold on to anything that is/was Michael's. She cannot remember his voice right now. How desperate I felt for her at that moment. How do I tell her that it is going to come back, it will, but it may take awhile. Because, no matter how much she was ready for him to be eased of his pain, and move on to the place that gives the eternal rest and perspective, now she must go on. And she is numb. She is confused. She is in so much pain that of course, she cannot capture Michael's voice, his touch, or his smile. Or anything about him for that matter. But she will. Grief has a way of striking every aspect of your being, from the physical, to the emotional, to the psychological, and we do forget. And as she is struggling to hear his voice, I remembered how desperate I was to remember Allison's smile. For so long, all I could see was her face as she heard the diagnosis, the tears, the pain, the procedures, the lack of body movement, the shaving of the head, the inability to live a "normal" 21 year old's life. I couldn't find her smile. I was desperate and immobile. I couldn't see past the pain, but was it her pain, or MY pain? I wanted that smile back, at all costs.
Grief continues to plague many of us. It is work. It is my daily assignment and task. It doesn't take a break. It is my constant companion, compounded, now, by another family loss that seems so soon. Don't we get more of a respite? Dont' we get to breathe a little easier without wondering what is going to happen in this life to take someone else that we love away from the family unit, the group photo? Don't we get to say enough is enough? We know the answer and that is a resounding NO, it's not over, it has barely begun. So we capture what we can, take the good with the bad, the tears and the laughter, the pain and the joys, the reasons to smile and be glad for this day, no matter what it brings. We get to find one sweet miracle, even if the miracle is simply getting up and moving through.
I needed to capture her smile today, that one that lights my soul, my world, my surroundings, that smile that reminds me that I will find a reason to smile today, as I look in the eyes of my vibrant 28 year old daughter, as I take Rex on his walk, as I meet with a friend tonight to "celebrate" the five year passing of her dear husband, as I make a meal for my own husband, as I remember Michael and all his funny ways, and as I hold my dear, departed daughter close to my heart, as she lives on and on and on, helping me to forget the days that mean nothing now, the painful ones, and focus on the smile...oh, just to see her smile! What a joy! What a blessing! What a memory!
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