Yesterday was a peaceful and calm day, and I was so grateful. I felt a stillness that I wanted and needed to feel.
We went to the cemetery. As I watched Jason and the kids, I was reminded of the message I received last year around this time to LOOK UP:
From 7/4/14: We were with my dad on the 4th of July enjoying the fireworks. Lincoln wanted to play with my phone. This usually means he is looking at picture of himself and silly movies he has made. I was so frustrated because he wouldn't look up at the fireworks. How could he not look up? They were not only overwhelming our sense of hearing, but our sense of sight. Everyone seemed to be looking up, in awe, except for him. I even took my phone away and he still didn't look up. I felt God speaking to me: You, also, need to look up. Stop looking at the mundane things all around you and look UP so I can show you some thing greater...something more beautiful...something that you will never see by looking down at your own "plan." I feel like God is trying to show us something greater!
I had a white balloon that I was going to let go of and watch float away. I had a hard time letting go of it. I felt the inclination to tie it to the statue of the the angel that is near Eli's grave. I thought I could tie it to her hand, and she could hold it for me for a little while after I left. I wondered why it felt so hard to let go of that little white string. It reminded me of an experience I had back in March:
Jason had a business trip scheduled in mid March. It was only a couple of days, but it was the first time he had gone out of town since we found out about Eli last July. I didn't want him to leave. I felt so dependent on him at the time, and didn't know what I would do without him; even for a short time. I remember that he had to leave very early in the morning; around 3:30 or so. He had set his alarm to wake up. I didn't sleep much before his alarm went off. I kept reaching my arm out to him to see if he was still there. Each time I felt for him, he was. Right before his alarm went off I had a couple of fingers curled around his shirt sleeve. I just held onto it lightly. His alarm went off and he rolled out of bed. My fingers slipped out from under his sleeve and he was gone. I had the inclination to hold on tightly to his sleeve so he wouldn't leave, but didn't. I knew he had to go even if he didn't necessarily want him to; especially at such an inconvenient and early time.
Afterwards, I lay awake and thought about how I felt when I held onto Eli and then had to let him go. I felt that it paralleled my lightly holding onto Jason's sleeve. I held onto Eli, but didn't resist when it was time for him to leave. I knew it was time to go; no matter how inconvenient or early it seemed. Maybe he wasn't fully ready; I wasn't either, but holding on tightly wasn't what I felt to do. Instead, I let my fingers slip away from him too. I didn't resist.
After Eli was gone....really gone....I felt the need to hold onto him tighter than I ever had before. It was ironic because I hadn't held onto him that tightly when he was inside of me or when he was in my arms, but when he was gone, I held on with a firm grasp; but it didn't feel like I had much to hold on to. I was very resistant, when I hadn't been in the past.
I felt a hint of that yesterday. I felt I needed to "let go" of that balloon, but didn't want to. I feel like if I let go of my pain, I am letting go of him. If I let go of sadness, I let go of him. If I let go of the constant need to mother him as a baby, I let go of him. I don't want to lose something that is attached to him. I feel like I met Eli and my grief on the same day. Sometimes I think they have to stay together, but I know they don't. I am amazed and relieved that as some of the pain goes, he stays. I know that I will never completely let go of the pain and sadness and the need to mother Eli, but part of it will go.
I did finally let go of the balloon.
