|Hami loved the beach|
Today I touched it. I know what it feels like and I hope to feel it again and I found it in the most unlikely place. In water.
My beautiful baby boy died because of water. Even writing the word 'water' fills me with horror, dread and pain. Quicksand camouflaged as icy blueness. As much as I'd like to, I can not escape it. As the mercury arches over 30 degrees most days, my children beg to swim in my sister's pool (ours is off-limits). How can I refuse the joy it gives them to splash and play with their cousins? For a few weeks now I've been forced to watch them play in the pool. I still glare at it through narrow eyes but I allow my children to revel in its relief. My kids don't blame the water for taking Hami away, they blame the gate for not doing its job. I blame myself, my husband blames himself. Blame, guilt, regret. Nasty, soul-destroying feelings. But the water played a part in the horrific nightmare that never ends.
|I did it.|
I wanted to hate the sea. I wanted to curse it's refreshing saltiness, but I only emerged feeling slightly more healed than I did when I entered it. I don't want to give the water credit for its restorative qualities, but in a small way it licked my gaping wounds. They will never be healed, it's pink rawness ever-present, but there is something about embracing nature, hope and life that forces you to see it's beauty. I needed to be reminded that my life is not over, as I think/want it to be most days. It can be renewed. It can be renewed in the most unlikely of places.
It is now just a few hours away from midnight. My daughter doesn't understand why we aren't celebrating New Year's Eve as we do most years. "Daddy and I don't feel like celebrating," I explained. "But New Year's Eve is meant to be celebrated," she said. "Not this year, I'm sorry" I replied. I feel very little for it. It is a not a chance for new beginnings. It is not a blank page in a new book. The slate cannot be wiped clean. Hamish is my past, my present, my future. He is my forever. A new calendar year means nothing to me except I'm another day closer to being reunited to my sweet, beautiful angel.
However, I do have goals for the next year and the year after (call them resolutions if you will):
1. To write a book for Hamish
2. To ensure my children feel loved and treasured every day
3. To honour Hamish every day
4. To tell my husband I love him every day
5. To nourish my body and soul
6. To be a good friend
7. To live a meaningful life
8. To feel self-worth
9. To live more simply
10. To feel gratefulness
It's ambitious to be sure, particularly for a woman unable to make plans for tomorrow. Achievable? I hope so.
Whatever, your dreams, goals, aspirations are for 2013, I wish you all the very best.
Thank you for listening this year. I'm lucky to have found such understanding and support.