Driving home I started to think about all these public moments when I want to tell my story but of course I don't. Like the Saturday we went to buy new storm doors at Lowes and the very sweet salesman kept saying what was to me, the most tragic things. When I jokingly asked him if he wanted to take our crazy boys off our hands he laughed and said oh no, I love girls, do you have any girls? You see my daughters are all grown and out of the house and boy do I miss them. Girls are amazing and precious. It was then I looked over to my dear Amos and smiled a faint smile knowing he will never get to see his Koralyn grow and talk about her proudly in the Lowes aisle. Our eyes met in that moment and I could see his sadness and he mine and it was okay. Then the poor man he kept going, talking about one of his daughters expecting her 1st child and asked me if my mother lived close to help out with my boys. You know grandmothers are so important, he said. I wanted to tell him the truth, wanted to let him know he was trodding on sacred soil, Part of me right there in the Lowes wanted to scream out how we did, we had a baby girl and she was precious and she was beautiful and she is dead in the cold hard ground and we won't get to see her again for maybe a long time. I wanted to tell him how oh my young mom was supposed to turn 55 this past September but instead she died in the back of an ambulance after her body hit the back of a dodge truck flying off her Harley so many people think are just so cool. If she had been in a car she would probably still be here today. I didn't of course, I nodded and smiled and said oh my mom is in New Mexico and laughed about my rowdy boys and told him congratulations on his exciting news. Because I didn't want to ruin his day, or make him feel bad, or worse have him pity me. (We survivors, we don't want pity. Sympathy, love, understanding yes, but pity, no! Pity is an insult. We know we are your worst fear and you are so glad you aren't walking in our shoes, we don't need to hear it in your voice or see it in your face.)
I have been surprised at all the times since Koralyns death I have been asked if its just the two boys. All boys I see? Or, are these your only children, these two boys? Usually in these cases I will take a moment and explain that oh no, we have a daughter too but she passed away. Most of the time people are very sweet and I am so thankful for their kindness. Sometimes I don't have to say anything. Asa likes to tell random people at totally random times he had a sister but she passed away. Poor guy taking our order at Mcdonalds, he looked at me shocked and I smiled and he says, uhhhhh sorry dude thats sad. Its happened twice to unsuspecting fast food workers.
I find myself wanting to spare people those awkward feelings that come rushing to their cheeks when I say something about my dead baby or my dead mom. Strange how I feel like I have two identities since my mom and Koralyn died. How I feel more at ease around the people that know and more lost around the people that don't, which is the majority of the world. To most people I am just a young mom with two boys and a husband and a happy life not touched by tragedy and pain. Its funny how before all of this happened I never looked twice at people and wondered what their story was, what sadness or hurt were they carrying around. Now I can't help but wonder that everytime I am out somewhere. Sometimes you can tell, in these past days I have often thought about all those people injured in the Boston bombing and how their lives will now forever be a before and after, especially those who lost limbs. It will be easy for random people in public to see that something has happened to them in their lives, something to scar them. People will wonder and some may ask. For me it is healing to tell my story, to talk about my Koralyn and my mom and what we have been through. It helps me and its comforting to know that others know, its a feeling like, there one more person knows, they know of my loss and my pain and about my daughter who was so brave. Like each person that knows and acknowledges helps me heal a little piece of my heart. I am sure for a lot of those in Boston (maybe not all, and I know its a very different scenario) it will be the same way, they will eventually find comfort in the telling of their tragedy. Strength in numbers. I used to be very naive and think tragedy didn't happen to everyone but now I know in different ways it happens to us all and we all want to feel connected and have someone hear our story and give a nod in recognition. I used to be the person saying I just can't imagine and meaning it and standing there trying to imagine and being horrified at the thought.
Today a year after I laid in that hospital room in that bed on the 3rd floor after Koralyn's very 1st crisis when she was less then a week old and I pleaded with God throughout the night to save her, please let her live. Laying their thinking I wouldn't be able to live through the death of my baby girl, a girl that was wanted so badly. I wouldn't be able to take this postpartum body home without a baby to hold. Couldn't, I couldn't and surely God wouldn't make me, he knew I couldn't do it. Oh but he did make me, he graciously gave us more time with our sweet girl and allowed us to be loved and supported by so many others, but he did take my girl and my mom too in the midst of it all. There have been days when I have asked him what the heck he was thinking. Days when I have coveted my "neighbors" life and their lack of tragedy. Days when the bitter taste of death wells up in my throat and burns holes into my body. But each and every single day I have been carried by my Jesus and by the ones he put in my life to carry me as well. I know now, that I can tell him anything and he has been so gracious to allow me to do that and help me to walk even on the most heavy days of my grief. He has given me moments of strength to cling to and more hope then I ever thought possible in a situation like this. He is forgiving and loving and gracious. There is much sadness to be had here on this earth but there is also much Joy. My girls 1st birthday came and went and she wasn't here to celebrate in the ladybug dress her Grandma Kay bought her. It was hard to go to her grave on that day and take balloons and roses. There was also sweetness and comfort in the gifts our friends left for our girl, honoring her life and our loss as well. Everyday there is pain and sadness and most days Joy too and lots of mercy and grace. I remember after that sonogram at 24 weeks gestation, that devastating sonogram that shook us to the core. I went into the womens restroom and as I was washing my hands I looked into the mirror and smiled having an overwhelming sense of peace. I rubbed my big belly and I looked at my reflection and said to myself and our baby girl alone in that bathroom that everything was going to be all right. God would make everything all right; and in his way, in his time, he is.
"These things I have spoken to you, so that in me you may have peace. In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world." John 16:33
