Navigating the Muck, A New Way of Living Through Grief
Originally Published July 18, 2016
I wonder how my future self is going to feel when I look back on this first eight months without Poppy — this intensely spiritual period of grieving.
Will I judge myself?
“I could have done it better.” “I should have done it differently.” “I missed the whole point.”
No. I won’t feel that way. I am growing up and out of this muck. Poppy’s life, after death, is turning me inside out and I’m beginning to blossom.
I started writing to Poppy the first morning we got home from the hospital. I look back at that journal entry now and then, and I’m amazed I could hold a steady pen. I remember sitting in my glider balancing a blank journal in my lap.
It was dark outside. 3:23am. I only know because I wrote down the date and time: October 28, 2015, 3:23am. Pen in hand, these are the first few words I wrote: I forgive myself. I forgive Poppy.
What was I forgiving? Why did my heart and mind go to that place? Was forgiveness necessary at that point? Why did I feel like I needed to forgive Poppy? I guess I was forgiving her then for all the heartache and pain her death was going to bring.
With hindsight, I see how much I have had to forgive myself. Forgiveness has become my lifeline. Every day is a process of letting be. Accepting this journey for what it is. Accepting my imperfection. Accepting that our plans of being parents to our daughter were merely that…plans. Nothing is certain. Nothing is forever. It’s all so precious.
I am finding peace with the impermanence. I am finding peace with change…constant, unrelenting, but natural. I am landing. The ground looks different than before she was born.
This process is intimidating and confusing, but the more I sit with my emotions, the more I know I am approaching my tragedy authentically. I’m doing it the way I need to. I’m not doing it the way I think I “should” do it, or the way someone else would do it. I’m following my heart. My meditation is integral to this shift. The time I spend in stillness is helping me see more. I’m slowing down, and as I do I’m becoming a better wife, a better friend, a better member of the human race.
I still have moments where I feel utterly helpless and the tears flow steadily. But the guilt and shame are quieting. This is one of the greatest gifts Poppy’s life is revealing to me — the ability to feel and not judge. I’m not betraying my pain and I’m not ignoring her existence. I’m honoring myself and my daughter. She is teaching me.
Nothing about this process has been easy, but it has tremendous value. The world is spinning. Tragedies are happening all around us. My life is so small. And as I begin to embrace my own inherent value as a human being, I am closer to that value in all of us.
I am changing so fast. Maybe not in the most obvious ways, but within. It’s subtle. Profound. I’m finding more connections with the world. It’s strange to admit, but I’m starting to feel more peace than sorrow. I didn’t expect this. Poppy is revealing her magic to me every day. The gift of gratitude and appreciation. Each day a new opportunity, each moment another to experience in love.
