I did not realize until I opened my blog this morning that it has been a year to the day that I last posted (I began writing this on 3/15/2013). I have thought about it, attempted it, only to find that I had no words....thoughts, feelings, emotions, yes, but no words to explain them. So, I let it go, and in doing so, a part of me maneuvered the journey of life without expression, at least verbally, and without words. I have come to understand that writing was, and is, a part of my own personal therapy. It helps me grieve, release, move, grow, express, and in doing so, live.
So, why today? I would imagine it has so much to do with Allison's upcoming "birthday", and as I read part of last year's entry, I know the birthday serves as a type of trigger we grieving parents and siblings and relatives know all too well. She would be 28 years old, yet through my eyes, she is that baby born on March 19th, she is the dawning of spring and sunshine and flowers, she is that "forever 21" young woman on the threshold of all of life, she was imperfect in this world, as are we all, but now, she is perfect. She is pure and whole and well. She is beauty in it's most natural state. She is my constant companion, my delight, my joy and my compass. She is, and always will be, my baby.
Still, through my eyes, I wonder. I experience such pain when I wonder who she'd be today. What would 28 years old mean to her, and to us? She'd be an aunt to Isaac, she'd be making decisions about a career, a life, maybe a spouse, maybe her own children. The pain often comes from seeing all of her friends make career decisions, hold baby or wedding showers, housewarmings, and such. Painful? Indeed! With the social networking available to us, I still seek her face in the pictures posted on Facebook, at the weddings, when all her friends are gathered as bridesmaids OR as the bride, at the baby showers, when everyone is congregated around the pregnant mom, OR last year, when her sister was waiting for Isaac to be born and being adorned with all sorts of festivities. I look for her face in yesterday's St. Patrick's Day celebration photos because I know she would be right there, but she is not. She is no longer there. But, through my eyes, she is, she is there. I see her when perhaps no one else does, maybe in a shadow, maybe in the eyes of others, maybe as her face would look to me now, growing and aging as her sister and friends are doing, appropriately so, and beautifully so.
Through my eyes...I look in the mirror and I see her reflection in my own eyes. I see that she continues to be in all of us. I see her in EVERY season, for she truly embraced them all. They each held excitement and wonder for her, and now, with every bloom, snowflake, ice storm, humid and hot day, there she is, through my eyes, I see her, and through my spirit, I feel her, and in my soul, I know her.
Through my eyes, I truly cannot help but see things differently. I live with one part of my being in the present, and the other, in the future, and the future being eternity. Sure, I look back, the memories DO sustain me, they aren't as painful now, they bring a smile to my soul, and an image to my mind. But, in doing so, it is still the future I look to, and not the one necessarily HERE, on this side of heaven. I suppose one cannot lose a child or a loved one without looking through the eyes of eternity. I know that I cannot! I also know that one cannot reach the physical age of nearly 60 without understanding that we are in our twilight years. I sometimes wonder if that seems morbid, but to me, through my eyes, it does not. I want the sweet assurance that Allison had that eternity would be beautiful. She knew it in her beliefs, but she also knew it as I rocked her to eternal sleep, in my arms like a baby, not a full grown woman, uttering words that came to me from someplace deeper than my self. Through my eyes, I envision that moment, often, thanking God for the wherewithal to utter the sweet words in her ear, help to calm her fears, and help her go to the place we will all someday be, forever and ever, for all of our eternal days. So, it is truly no wonder I see life after this one, through my eyes. I can't say I always give thanks for this knowledge, for I know how I attained it. Others learn it earlier than I did, and live all of their days with the eye on the life hereafter. That is what I strive to do, to learn, to read, to say NO when I must, and say YES when I can. I yearn to assure my own place in eternal glory, knowing that what we have here is temporal. I have known it since the day Allison was diagnosed and later, passed in our arms. All things can be replaced, but not time, bodies, or often, health.
Appropriately, years ago, I titled this blog, "This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it"...I do falter, I do stop, I do not know how to go on some days, I do miss so much about our Allison that I would give anything to see her again. Anything. But I don't have the option. I have choices that only I can make. I have never stopped looking for that daily miracle, the reason to keep going, getting up and making movement, growing in spirit and love. Even in my darkest hour, I came to accept that bringing Allison back, having her here to welcome Isaac into the world, celebrate her birthday, travel, join her on holidays was not going to happen, again, ever again...there are no more options. So, through my eyes, I find her, I often don't even need to seek, she is there, she is in Isaac's incessant laughter, in Jennifer's beauty as a new mother, in her friends' celebrations and life's milestones, in her father's sensitive heart, in the beauty of spring, in upcoming family weddings and future babies, and on this 28th birthday, through my eyes, I see her even more clearly, she is reflected in all of us, and as we were told most recently, "you all wear her well", I hope we do, Allison, I sure hope we do.
