A Special Visit

Yesterday I had a visit by a very, very special lady in my life. She actually lives across the country in British Columbia, but made it a priority to come and see me while she was in Toronto. How honoured I was. She is my aunt and we have always shared a strong connection. She is such a kind, soft and gentle soul....

Since losing Nicholas I have shared a lot of my feelings with her, but there was something much more "real" and comforting to have her sitting next me to share my tears... my memories of our sweet little boy. We looked at pictures and scrapbooks and just talked and cried. She truly shared my grief and sadness. She also shared some meaningful truths that are sometimes difficult to see when you are experiencing such a deep loss.

I have often felt like I will never be the same woman because when Nicholas died, a part of me died with him. How can you ever be the same when you have lost such a huge, significant part of yourself? When I told my aunt this she said "yes, but a part of him stayed with you also". Maybe the part of him that stayed with me is somehow meant to fit into the part that I lost...maybe the memories I have of our pregnancy, the memory of holding him in my arms for the first and last time the memory of admiring his daddy's love for him, are supposed to fill the empty part in my heart.

She also asked me what gives me peace right now. My first reaction was "nothing!" But that's just not true. My family gives me peace. My husband, Jim, our two lively, energetic and happy boys here with us, and of course, our Angel who is watching over us. I feel totally and completely safe within our home and within our family. I feel safe to "feel". I am able to smile and even laugh with ease because it's not a front... and in the next moment cry uncontrolably.

Nobody else, ever, will share the bond that Jim and I have simply because we lived (and continue to live) every step of this nightmare together. I'm certain that it's because of that bond, that because we understand the excruciating pain that lies beneath the surface, that we are able to feel so freely with one another. In other instances, with most other people, I feel fake. I feel like I am putting on this happy face to make everyone else feel better. What most people don't get is that I would just like an acknowledgment of our son, of our situation. To totally ignore the fact that our lives have been shaken to the core irritates me so much. I am not looking for pity, far from it, but a little respect would be nice.

Thank you Auntie Christina, for your peaceful insight, for your love and for your never ending support. I appreciate you so much.