Presents and Gifts

It is that time when shopping for Allison's birthday gifts would be in full swing. I suppose that is why it can be so painful and gut wrenching to be in the stores and see the bloom of color in her favorite shades of pinks and oranges and greens and blues. The pain only comes from the fact that there is no physical presence any longer, no daughter opening her birthday packages with the biggest smile, genuine happiness over the biggest, or smallest bag! Anniversaries, holidays and birthdays plague us and take us to the deepest part of sadness and darkness if we allow it. And to allow such moments is acceptable, in my eyes, as long as I don't "stay" there too long. As long as I don't allow the veil of black overwhelm me and make me immobile, thus, missing this day, this beauty, the smells of spring, and the promise of better days. God knows my soul is crying out to hold her, touch her, have her right here so that she can open her gifts, but that is not to be, not now, not ever. Instead, we must look for the gifts to come in other ways, other wrappings and other packages. And they do.

I am enlightened as to how gifts can come from loss. I wouldn't even know if I could explain it to someone else, but in my soul, I understand. I know I am not where I would be if Allison still lived on earth instead of in our hearts. I have been places, physically, but more importantly spiritually and emotionally, that I would never have travelled had she not left us her mark and legacy. I am stronger than any one could have ever imagined, especially myself, and I am forever changed. I embrace the day at hand, understand myself, like being who I am, and co-creating the path of existence. With God as my pilot, I am finding out who He wants me to be, in all the loss and devastation, something new and bright is emerging in me and in my family and in the ever widening circle of family and friends who walk this path with me. Still, I mourn and I grieve and I trudge through the loss. I cry, I sit in disbelief that she is not here for her 24th birthday, that already, three birthdays have passed since she left us to stay the course. I do my best NOT to wonder, "is this going to get softer, or easier, or less intense, is the pit in my stomach EVER going to go away and not be prevalent to my being"? I do my best to focus on the blessing of life, and live it with as much laughter, love and light that is possible to muster. Sure, I have learned to pace and travel slowly, and look for the gifts in the broken times. They are there for the opening, they are lovely, they are serene, they are magical, and they don't come in a box or a decorated bag. They come from within.

So I acknowledge, WE acknowledge, in a subtle way, saying her name, lighting the candle of hope, scattering pink flowers at her grave, enjoying her favorite foods, celebrating by stepping out of our comfort zones, giving to others in her name, breathing the air, stopping for the sunrise or sunset, smelling the flowers, whatever brings her closer to our hearts. We know she is more alive, in some ways, than if she lived in our present world, for the gifts keep coming and the day is at hand. Sunny or rainy, cloudy or dark, winter, or spring, we keep moving through and finding our way, guided by our birthday angel who is forever 21, who no longer knows a number on a cake, who lives in spirit and soars.