Sometimes people ask us how we are doing. Considering the circumstances we find ourselves in, we are doing good, but truthfully, the days are getting harder. The reality of life without our Mikail sinks in deeper and deeper each day. Yesterday marked the first month Mikail has been in heaven. The first month since we have been without him.
My mind is such a jumble of thoughts. One minute I am so grateful that God blessed us with Mikail for as long as He did. At the time of his birth we didn’t know whether he would make it. I remember Jason and I standing over his bassinet in the NICU begging God to heal him and give us more time with him. He answered our prayers…the time was just much much shorter than we thought we would get. Other times I am angry. Why? Why Mikail? Why us? He was such a good kid. We had so much more life to live together. He was going to be someone amazing. He WAS someone amazing. Then come the thoughts of we should have done something different. We should have seen some sign. We should have taken him in to the E.R.—but why? There was no reason to take him in. Shoulda-coulda-woulda. Those three don’t get us anywhere either, because no matter which health professional we talk to, there was nothing we could have or should have done differently. It was a lightning strike situation and the outcome would have been the same regardless. Other times I have no thoughts, I am consumed with pain so deep that all I can do is fall to the floor and weep. My arms physically ache to hold him one more time, to whisper “I love you” in his ear and hear him say “I love you” back with his cute little smirk. My heart feels like it is being squeezed so tight, that it physically hurts.
All of these thoughts fall into the grieving process: shock, anger, guilt, bargaining, and acceptance. I am not sure that I have bargained yet and I know that I have not come to acceptance. This will all take time.
Just before J left for work one morning, he said ‘I knew that it would get harder with time, but I hoped it wouldn’t’. He’s right. The mourning is getting harder. The tears come more often now that the shock of it all is wearing off. I dread the day that the cards stop coming in the mail. They are such a comfort to me. My dear friend who knows grief intimately, asked all her Facebook friends to send some ‘mail love’ our way. Now I understand why. Mail is the life-line to the knowledge that others haven’t forgotten. It doesn’t matter if they are family, friends, acquaintances or strangers. It’s just that someone is out there that remembers Mikail and the pain we feel right now. He isn’t forgotten. We aren’t forgotten, even though life goes on as usual for the rest of the world. It’s not that I’m wallowing. Not at all. It’s just so helpful in this time where we are choosing to embrace the time of sorrow, yet also knowing that the laughter and fun we share with others is just as equally a part of the healing process. Sharing the story, the laughter, the tears. Embracing it all as part of the journey has been so healing. Having others acknowledge the pain and the emptiness and the hurt is healing in so many ways as well.
Thank you for writing your thoughts down and sharing. I am sorry I didn't visit with you before you left G.P. Your Mikail was an amazing child. I felt and knew this from your stories and pictures. God bless you as you continue to grieve . Hugs for you Iris.
I read this. I have nothing to say. But I think it's important that you know that I read it, and I listened and I see you. I love reading what you write and I will walk this journey beside you, reading every single post.
As sad as the posts have been lately, I appreciate your honesty of the words. I think you are very courageous and strong to put \”pen to paper\”, I pray you are able to find healing through the words you write.