Well I survived February, not just in regards to pregnancy. Four years ago in February the first love of my life was taken in a stupid, senseless tragedy. I have no problem saying that the accident was stupid. It was and it still doesn’t make sense. Normally I end that sentence talking about how God is real especially in tragedy and his healing is real. But today—I don’t have the energy, I simply passed another sadistic milestone.
The day came and went without the normal gut punch, without the air getting sucked out of the world. Its not a huge surprise the anniversary of that day have never meant that much to me. It was just a day, it was never meant to be special. I don’t hold any grudge against that day. The day we were supposed to marry, yeah I hate that day, the day he proposed-not a good one either. February is a just a milestone, how many years has it been now I have to ask myself. Ohkay four years. What does that mean? So the hole in my heart is being filled over time, but it doesn’t change the audacity of it all.
Now the shear audacity of it all presents itself when people ask-“what’s your book about?” In that moment I know that the air is about to be sucked out of the rooms simply because of the stark contrast of tragedy in polite conversation. Some artists live for that moment, shock value, I still feel guilty. Not because of our story, or even the messy reality of pain, but to drop it in someone’s lap just feel cruel.
I love black words on white paper they are so unemotional so unjudgemental.
There is peace in the haven they give me. A place to recreate the love and life that was, a clean place to vomit emotion, an orderly format to question God, all these innocuous words coming together to form variations of the human experience.
But today is about life. In the strange poetry of it all the day that was supposed to be my wedding day to this gentle caring man, three years and another love later, it was the day I found out we were going to have a baby. Life is nasty and hard and as I prepare for this precious little one I realize it’s also sweet and innocent. I have no idea why life overlaps in some strange symmetry, but I do know that it lets us breathe. In and out that is enough.
1 comment:
I can so relate to your thoughts for today as this time last year my infant son died in my arms and today another boy kicks inside me. Life is filled with such joy and such suffering... oh how I long for heaven where the suffering will be gone and the joy is beyond measure. Wishing you, Nate, and your darling baby all the best.
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