The Gift of Regret

[caption id="attachment_4117" align="alignright" width="225" caption="Lotta and Thom at beach day on our Faith's Lodge trip.Inside the lodge."][/caption]

I suppose the gift in feeling regretfullish of not appreciating Ellie enough is that it has inspired me to appreciate Ben and Lotta.  Which was truly helpful to Ben as he and I had not been getting along well those last few days before school started.

When we were at Faith's Lodge (a place that serves

 

At the Duluth aquarium (daytrip from Faith's Lodge)

families who have lost a child), there was a journal in our room that every family who'd stayed there wrote in.  One mom said that they had learned that great sorrow and great joy could co-exist.  She explained that they could not possibly live continuously in their grief.  That the sparks of joy had to shine through.  The friends who understood that were the ones they treasured most.

This grief continues to surprise.  When someone says to me they cannot imagine losing a child, I tell them I could not

 

Day trip to a state park near Faith's Lodge.

imagine it beforehand either.  Just like becoming a parent was so much MORE than I ever imagined, so is this grief.  (Have I already said that?  I am quite certain Thom will let me know if I have.)

I feel as if I am slightly obsessed with Ellie.  (Can you be slightly obsessed or is that like being kinda pregnant? I am NOT pregnant.)  I find myself constantly thinking of Ellie, wondering what she would have said about Lotta right now.  Pondering how dinner time would be different if Ellie were sitting at her end of the table.  At times, it feels like an ache, an

 

Ben drinks his coffee so he can stay alert for all the activities on our trip.

unquenchable thirst.  At other times it feels as if she is near, continually leaving me little messages.  At other times it is just disorienting.  Sometimes I feel as if I am being chased by grief, I run and run but finally tire and grief catches up with me.  Yesterday, the 8-month anniversary of Ellie's death was one of those days.  The first time that I felt that my missing of that sweet girl was overwhelming me.  I had that out of control feeling as if I was not going to be able to stop crying.  So when someone asked how I was doing, I just admitted that I was a mess.  Typically I would feel embarrassed and ashamed of such showmanship.  This time, however, I am not even going to waste a moment feeling bad for feeling bad.  So there.  And somehow, having let the storms pass over me, today is better (and thanks to a phone call to my emergency contact, my sister).

Recently when I passed the funeral home where Ellie was cremated I suddenly felt so appreciative of Ellie, that I have someone that I knew so intimately here  in this physical realm on the other side.  Wow!  Then I felt like a 5-year-old, thinking, she could really help me do some stuff.  It made me laugh thinking just like Ben would.

I wonder if it will be easier or harder when I am at the point where I can no longer think or say, last year at this time, Ellie was...  Or doing something for the first time without Ellie.  I suppose only time will tell.  I imagine just like so many things it will be a messy mixed mash up of both easier and harder.  Once again a mix of great joy and great sorrow.