Throwing rocks
Throwing rocks
Caius was a water baby. When I was pregnant I used to go float in a float tank, and Caius would swim around inside me, kicking his little legs. When it was hot, I would drag my big bump down to the lake to cool off. The first time I put Caius in the bath his face lit up. I could see a look of "I know this" on his face as his arms and legs moved around in the water. From then on the bath tub was our happy place. We would soak the cold Winter days away. When Caius was four months old we started swimming lessons. When his lesson was over we would stay in the pool- Caius would keep kicking and splashing and watching the ladies aquasize long after the other babies were done. When the sun was out, Caius and I would bundle up and walk along the lake, listening to the waves and anxiously awaiting Spring and Summer so we could play in them. We traveled to Vancouver with Caius, taking time to walk the sea wall and ride the Aqua Bus so we could take in the sweet ocean air. In Seattle, we paced the board walk waiting for sleeping Caius to awake so we could take him to the aquarium and show him the different fish. Later on we swam in the hotel pool, taking turns holding our squealing baby boy as he moved joyfully and happily in the water. He loved every minute of it and so did we because of it.
And so I find myself seeking peace at the water again. Desperately trying to keep that link to Caius as a way to remember what he loved best. But I don't know how. The waves seem to pull me in but I'm at a loss of what to do. So I throw rocks. Big rocks, little rocks, I throw them all. Somehow the sight and sound of the rocks hitting the water makes things better for a brief moment. I throw them because I am sad, and I throw them because I am angry, and I throw them because I don't know what to do. I am being forced into a new normal that I don't want to be in. I throw rocks because it's the only thing I can do that takes away the unbearable pain for just a second and in that one fleeting second I can feel nothing. I throw rocks while Caius' daddy lowers himself into the cold lake, trying to numb his own pain in the icy water. I throw rocks because I am so sad and I miss Caius so much and I don't know what to do.
So I throw rocks.
Like water, the waves will keep coming - bigger and faster at first, and at times it will be hard to remain standing. But as the sun peeks around the corner, the waves will become smaller, gentler, and it will be easier to remain standing.
ReplyDeleteThe more you fight the waves, the harder it will be to keep upright. Learn to float and the easier it will be to withstand each wave as they come. Honor the storms as they come and try to float, and it will let the waves travel around you.
He is loved and always will be loved, and his smile will always gaze upon you.
Take comfort in your friends and family - they will give you shelter during this wretched storm.
Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteI have learned that that the reason they are called 'waves of grief' is because if all your grief hit you all at once, it would be too much to bear. So it comes it waves...hitting you hard, then slowly subsiding, so you are able to catch you breath. Thank you for sharing your beautiful thoughts and memories of Caius the Great.
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