Today should be a happy day for me. I have an amazing husband who loves me and our little boy. We have a simple but loving home. Today is our 8th anniversary, and I am dealing with grief. A deep well of sadness stemming from a little girl lost (with big brown eyes and frail body), who would never know what it is to be cherished and loved. She didn’t know what she was missing but she knew something wasn’t right. She fought with all her might for her spirit, happiness and safety. She was resilient, and learnt the art of freedom and solitude, but she didn’t know how loving parents treat their kids, at least not until she had her own little boy.
The love, care, respect and kindness she showered her little boy with felt alien to her. Becoming a mother is a time for gratitude to women from healthy families. But, for her it was a time of profound grief, gratitude for her own spirit of resilience and her siblings who looked after each other. There was gratitude for her mother who in spite of a heartbreaking life tried her best, and even showed gentleness and kindness as much as she could muster. She and a few other adult who tried their best were probably the saving graces of her soul crushing childhood.
The saddest realization however, is that the good life she managed to build for herself was one that came about in spite of her brokenness coupled with a bit of luck and kindness from friends she met later in life. There is more. Her saving graces were the trees she made friends with, dew drops on leaves, dainty, sweet-smelling flowers, waterways and the salty, turquoise depth. Yes, nature does have healing powers.
Today, I choose to make space for my grief. Today, I choose to be grateful for the blessings and yet mourn what could never be – a little girl who would never know what it is to be a child free of care. Today, I choose to be grateful to the love I found in my adulthood and be mindful of my own triggers so they don’t hurt my sweet four year old. Today, I choose to feel the kind breeze, purple petals falling over me as I sit at my favourite bench and let star tingles bathe my sorrows.