life is a series of events that take you from a to b and then you turn and find c and somewhere along the way you realize that z is not the end because suddenly out of the blue g is new all over again.
i went to art camp and from the moment i stared out at the way the light bounced off the warm wood of the cabin, the warm hugs and smiles and lighted eyes of women whose words still reverberated in the warm skin of my thoughts, the water gently sighing and always moving in paint swirled refrain, i felt it. tears sprung to my eyes and over and over again i said,
“i am so happy”
“i am so happy”
“i am so freaking happy!”
i would say it out of the blue while sitting in the cafeteria surrounded by understanding and conversation and more food than i could possibly eat. its true. i didn’t really eat for the first few meals because i was too caught up in the conversation, the hugs, the realization that these women that i have grown to love over the past few years were right there in front of me and more beautiful than i had even imagined.
i kept saying those words, “i am so happy” because that was my biggest realization.
i. am. so. incredibly. happy. even now, here in this place of cold and snow and the suffocating grey sky pressed down on me. even here where autumn seems to have passed us by and green leaves frozen have fallen to the ground, not given the chance to fully express their bright bloomed colour before death came again.
it was there, surrounded by my friends, in a magical cabin in the woods filled with light and the constant lapping of crystal clear water, that i fully realized it. there is a strange beauty in it all that i couldn’t express beyond the words, i am so happy which began to cause those around me to giggle madly ever time i uttered those words even when i thought i was driving everyone crazy with it all, i couldn’t stop saying it because i couldn’t contain it.
when my twins died, a part of me stopped. fully stopped. in a breathe, the clock stopped and every second was a breathe i had to get through. i never knew breathing was so hard. i was a shell of a person breathing through my days, one foot in front of the other. it was in that place that i looked deep into the internet searching for stories that were not my own and that is where i found beauty and pain and raw real love in the form of so many of those friends that i met for the first time just a month ago. it was these same women who breathed hope into my breathe as i learned to live again, learned to breathe again, forever changed and finding myself anew.
what i realized in my happy declarations is that i am really happy. somewhere along the way, i have worked through the grief in a way that honours me and honours them, my sweet forever baby boys. through it all, i have somehow managed to keep my heart open, to stay positive and hopeful and to continue to allow love to rule my life. i still have moments, grief attacks and i am okay with that, it allows me to keep their memory in my heart and hopefully will continue to remind me that one can lose everything and still find happiness in the big ol’ beautiful world. the dark spot that required intense breathing to get through, however, is gone. even now, as i write this, i pause, check and smile. its gone.
i think its incredibly fitting that i fully realized how happy i am surrounded by some of the very women who read my words over the years, who listened to me speak and who honoured that part of me and even as they listened, they took the time to really see me and feel the pain of my loss. i told my story, the story of henry and eliot, to two women face to face while i was away, two women who i only just met for the first time but who had read the words in this space. they held me and cried as i cried as i spoke the words aloud, the story of my pregnancy, birth and how it was to hold my babies as they died. they thanked me for sharing that piece of myself and i realized that the clearing away of the pain was in large part to the spaces you have all given me to speak about it over and over and over again.
my happiness has been helped in large part because you have let me speak, you have held my words, you have honoured my journey.
and meeting all of you and laying on the dock with the sun on my face and the water dripping from my fingertips has freed me further … there is beauty in just being. happy. there is freedom in just being. happy.
life is hard. messy. imperfect.
the first night that i was at squam, i tripped on the rocks as i am apt to do, klutz girl strikes again. i fell hard and cut my hand open, wounded with a hole. i picked myself up and walked down to the dock and rinsed the blood off my hand in the water before going back up to the cabin to spray it with antiseptic and bandaid it up.
i had a beautiful time.
i realized that i have a lot of holes, we all do. bits of pain and hurt and insecurities. i realized that somewhere along the way, i have learned to fill up my holes with all the beauty and love in the world that i can find and that has made all the difference in the world to how i feel on most days.
i had bad moments, bad days, even bad weeks or years but within all that … i am so freaking happy you guys. so very very happy.