Pulp

Someone once described grief to me as being like a bottle of juice- fresh, pulpy juice. Sometimes grief settles within you, the small bits of fruit finding their place at the bottom of the bottle. I find this settling happens when I have happy thoughts about Caius or I am doing something positive like making necklaces and going out in the sunshine. It's a mix of acceptance and gratefulness. Not fighting the reality of what happened and what could have been, but sadly acknowledging what is. It is the quiet peace that comes softly when I remind myself that we loved our sweet boy so much, and that his short little life was a happy one. It is a melting numbness, a place between the overwhelming sadness that twists my heart and the space that I have to go to when it gets to be too heavy that I need to check out for a bit. This precarious little spot sits between devastation and avoidance like the center of a teeter-totter- if I should lean a bit to one side, the balance is lost. But the stillness that comes is a welcomed relief.

The problem comes when the bottle of juice is shaken, and the pulp begins to swirl about. This is when the feelings that come with grief move through me- hopelessness, sadness, frustration, guilt, anger. Just as the tiny fruit morsels cloud the juice, things become less clear. I get tunnel vision where I can only focus on that morning, or what Caius would be doing right now, or the what if's and should be's. I get stuck on a track of thoughts that just encourage more intense feelings, like a runaway train. Once they get going, it's hard to stop them. The stirring also brings what can best be described as panic. I started feeling panicked the day that followed Caius' passing when I would suddenly realize he wasn't there without being able to go somewhere and get him. The adorable little boy that had become my right hand man was just gone. Without warning, without a real good bye. One night he was there, two days later all his stuff was jammed into his room behind a closed door. I got into my car and his car seat had already been taken out. The applesauce in the fridge and the milk in the freezer had vanished. No trace of him remained out in the open. It was all so unsettling.

But then the pulp settles again. I can think about my little bumblebee with so much love and so peace. The shaking is inevitable, but the promise of the settling is what makes it a little more bearable 💖

Chantal