We lost Quinlan on November 13th, 2007, nearly two years ago. This day happens to be World Kindness Day. Last year, we attempted to make his memory meaningful by asking friends and family to perform random acts of kindness in his name. We are continuing it this year, along with a custom tag you can print and send along with your random act. These acts can be as small as helping someone with their groceries, shoveling a neighbor's driveway, or doing something kind and anonymous for someone you know. We hope that you will remember us this week, and spread love and kindness in Quin's name.
Please visit: http://www.friendsofquinlan.blogspot.com
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
The longest days
Some days, like today, I feel like a wave has overcome me, and I am underwater. There is no sound, there is no pain, just a strange numbness, and the light shining through. Numb, lost, paralyzed...But lately, I am always on the brink, of feeling and emotion overcoming me and drowning me in sorrow.
In these days before the anniversary, I realize I have moments, that come out of nowhere, where I see him, where I feel him, where I remember every detail of him. Then, I remember what it felt like when he was alive, and even worse when he died, and...I crumble. I get sad, I get mad, I cry at nothing and everything.
This much I can tell you...I will never accept this. I will always question how horrible things can happen to some and not others. I will always wonder why I drew this lottery ticket of pain and sorrow. I have come to peace with his loss in some ways, but, in others, well, I am not sure I will ever find the solace I seek. I have learned so much, I have grown stronger, I value friendship and kindness more than ever. But, the anger, it still lurks.
For me, knowing that I get the chance every day to make the world better for someone else helps me go on. That selflessness is what keeps me going. That, and a tiny shred of hope. It is small, but it is there.
This week, I sat at the doctor on that stupid table, wondering if I would ever know the joy of a crying baby, the sound of cooing, the wiggly, warm body that would belong to my child. She asked me how I was coping, how I was dealing with the loss of Quinlan, and the loss of two recent failed pregnancies. I wept...and wept some more. We sat in the room for a long time, me trying to get a hold of myself, trying to communicate the pain I feel in my soul. And then she cried too. She apologized for not having more answers, and for my unspeakable loss that she will never truly understand.
I told her that I don't know what the future holds, but I know that in my life, there will never be a worse pain than a child dying inside of you. Most people will never understand me, and I have accepted that. I am forever changed, not just disappointed. I mourn not just a lost future, but the loss of a soul that lived within me. The past two years have been dark and sad, and...horrible. I won't ever get this time back. I have had to grieve the way I needed to, because I knew if I didn't grieve now, I would later, and it would be even more painful, if that is possible. I may have concerned others with my silence or my anger, or my sorrow, I just wish they understood. That's all I can say. I have no anger towards people who are still in the bubble, just concern that empathy is so rare these days.
To those who have rallied behind me, I am forever grateful. You gave me what I needed more than anything. Maybe some day this will make sense, I don't know. I just don't know. What I do know, something that is certain in this life, is that friendship and kindness are the greatest gifts we can share. No matter where we are in this life, we could all use it. Take it in my friends, and pass it on.
In these days before the anniversary, I realize I have moments, that come out of nowhere, where I see him, where I feel him, where I remember every detail of him. Then, I remember what it felt like when he was alive, and even worse when he died, and...I crumble. I get sad, I get mad, I cry at nothing and everything.
This much I can tell you...I will never accept this. I will always question how horrible things can happen to some and not others. I will always wonder why I drew this lottery ticket of pain and sorrow. I have come to peace with his loss in some ways, but, in others, well, I am not sure I will ever find the solace I seek. I have learned so much, I have grown stronger, I value friendship and kindness more than ever. But, the anger, it still lurks.
For me, knowing that I get the chance every day to make the world better for someone else helps me go on. That selflessness is what keeps me going. That, and a tiny shred of hope. It is small, but it is there.
This week, I sat at the doctor on that stupid table, wondering if I would ever know the joy of a crying baby, the sound of cooing, the wiggly, warm body that would belong to my child. She asked me how I was coping, how I was dealing with the loss of Quinlan, and the loss of two recent failed pregnancies. I wept...and wept some more. We sat in the room for a long time, me trying to get a hold of myself, trying to communicate the pain I feel in my soul. And then she cried too. She apologized for not having more answers, and for my unspeakable loss that she will never truly understand.
I told her that I don't know what the future holds, but I know that in my life, there will never be a worse pain than a child dying inside of you. Most people will never understand me, and I have accepted that. I am forever changed, not just disappointed. I mourn not just a lost future, but the loss of a soul that lived within me. The past two years have been dark and sad, and...horrible. I won't ever get this time back. I have had to grieve the way I needed to, because I knew if I didn't grieve now, I would later, and it would be even more painful, if that is possible. I may have concerned others with my silence or my anger, or my sorrow, I just wish they understood. That's all I can say. I have no anger towards people who are still in the bubble, just concern that empathy is so rare these days.
To those who have rallied behind me, I am forever grateful. You gave me what I needed more than anything. Maybe some day this will make sense, I don't know. I just don't know. What I do know, something that is certain in this life, is that friendship and kindness are the greatest gifts we can share. No matter where we are in this life, we could all use it. Take it in my friends, and pass it on.
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