For Thor - 101 - Fourth

How can it be...? Winter has melted into spring dancing with yellow daffodils that warmed to welcome blue columbines that, in turn, yielded to the dazzling display of zinnia and marigold and asters only to be swept up in the whirling color of autumn leaves which are then kissed by frost and snowflakes. Over and over, four times, the seasons have turned since you left us. It doesn't seem possible that 1,460 days have passed since we danced our last dance in the kitchen. I still can hear your voice calling, Hey Mama. I can still smell your sun-warmed skin after you had been playing soccer with friends. I can still feel your arms around me in a hug.

Today is the anniversary, again, of that last day, and my heart feels like it's been through a cheese grater. There's a bleakness that sits heavy on my chest and makes it hard to breathe. I'm a walking pile of contradictions today. I feel anxious and fratchety, wanting to run and curl up in a ball all at once. I'm neither well nor unwell. I'm grateful and also longing for something I can't have. I feel too much, and but I am also numb. I want to be with people, but I can't stand the idea of mindless chatter. My heart is sore with loss and full of love. I smile while I'm crying. I am a mother grieving a beloved son trying to walk around like I don't have a hole blasted through the center of my being.

There is a new beginning that I can also mark on this day - a new memory to associate with December 31st.  We took delivery of the new studio building this morning. It's a wonderous start in a chapter of creative expression for me. A designated, dedicated, and consecrated space where I can explore and dream and challenge myself to express what is in my heart. Dad and I have a bit of work to do to get it ready, but that will be fun for us to work on it together. Aren't you proud of me, Bubby? 

I found a piece of rose quartz, heart-shaped and shimmering, nestled in the limestone gravel we had delivered for the building site. I'm going to place it over the door as a talisman to remind me of how important it is to keep my heart open. I won't lie…it's hard to rise above the agony of the day even with this tremendous gift. But there is Hope. And Grace. Along with Love, they will carry me through this day of remembrance and into the start of another New Year. And even though I will inevitably face the fifth January 1st without you here, each new day brings an opportunity to live and love. 

I went out for a walk yesterday. It was 74 degrees, and the woods smelled intoxicating with the scent of dried leaves, pine needles, and moss. I felt you with me on that hike and especially as we sat in the sun-dappled by beech leaves. I was grateful for the peacefulness of the wood, which did two things; I was able to take the time to circle down into the root of grief and find where it is grounded in love and reconnect there. The privilege of loving you of being your mom is one of my life's greatest blessings. And too, as I learn to glean the precious lessons your death has to teach, I continue to be blessed…

The gift of what was given,
Can never be taken away;
I am altered completely;
Carved like a canyon
By the river of your being.
From <https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?rinli=1&pli=1&blogID=595199526631150838>

I love you, baby, more than words can say. But then, you already know my heart, because that is where you live...

Always, 

Your Mama