I made it to the parking garage before I totally lost it. After having come close to bursting into tears on the metro, I felt pretty proud of keeping it together until I was in the privacy of my own car. A small consolation.
Why then, why today? Maybe it's because of Harper's nine month birthday tomorrow. Maybe it's because this week has been marked by endless travel and my grandmother's funeral. Maybe it's because I got a lovely note from hospice or because Shea told me that if we had medicine for Harper we could give it to her and she wouldn't die. Maybe it's thinking about other babies and feeling the dueling emotions of not having more and worrying about the one to come.
Maybe it's all of these things. Or nothing at all.
Grief is like Tigger, waiting to pounce you when you last expect it. One day is fine, the next is hours of hiding tears at the office, keeping tissues nearby, the stress of hoping you won't make a total fool of yourself for crying at nothing whatsoever. Feeling completely helpless in getting caught up in the wave of sadness. And anger that there is nothing I can do to combat this feeling. It's frustrating and makes me angry. Or it would, if I weren't already feeling overwhelmed with sad.
With Shea, nine months felt like a milestone. Outside my body as long as he was inside. I remember the flannel moose pajamas he wore at nine months and the constant pulling up on the furniture, fooling us into thinking he would be an early walker.
Not having those memories with Harper, knowing we'll never have them, pains me.
Sometimes I just feel like a complete mess. Today is one of those days. All I want is a quiet space to cry, to find my center again, to feel like myself. Alas, it is not to be. Life goes on, obligations must be met, tears must be kept in check.
Someone recently told me that whenever he sees bean plants or seeds, he thinks of Harper, and the bean seeds we gave out at her memorial. I love that. It is, oddly enough, those happy associations, rare that they may be, that offer me the most comfort on the mess days.
I never thought I'd be speaking at my daughter and my grandmother's funerals within the space of a year. I wish I could find some deeper meaning in that, express an elegant sentiment about the full circle of life. But I am too adrift, too fluttery with tears to think about it much.
It is what it is.
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