Every morning I take a picture of my son while he sleeps. Sometimes it’s a foot sticking out of the quilt. Sometimes it’s his hand, fingers intertwined, and sometimes it’s his sweet closed eyes and dreaming face.
Because moments are fleeting.
Sure, we know. We’ve heard that before. But in this season of losing my momma, the rate at which time passes has come front and center.
Years go by in a blink. Pregnancy, toddler, ten year old, teen. I try to embrace these moments of motherhood. I can’t make time stand still, but a photo can. So, each morning, I take a picture so I can remember daily moments years from now.
This grief journey brings light to a lot of things. People have stepped up and into this mess of blurred-between-the-lines-moments that accompany loss.
On one of my posts, Jenna, who blogs at The Painted Apron, commented something that has stuck with me since.
She said, “I handle my grief every day by counting the blessings I do have.”
The part that climbed into my pocket?
Not some days. Not just on Tuesdays. Not just on sunny days. Not just on anniversary days. Not just on holidays. Not just on ‘we miss the person so much’ days.
“handle my grief every day”
For me, this is quite profound. There are a lot of books out there and tons of advice floating around about grief. I’ve been through loss before. I’ve always thought that it was just this thing that takes about a year to get over.
But everybody I know, that’s endured huge loss has said: you don’t, get over it.
Recently, I was so very homesick. I hadn’t seen my dad since my momma’s life celebration, so my son and I went to see him.
One evening, we went to a yard sale. I spotted some books and stepped over to take a look. Several caught my eye, including this one:
Immediately, Jenna’s words came to mind: “counting the blessings I do have.”
There were two identical books. I bought them both. Inside, there are daily spaces to fill in and also, longer writing prompts.
I’ve been a ‘counter of blessings’ person for many years, the concept of this isn’t new. I’ve also written ‘thankful lists’ randomly here and there. They, like the pictures of my son, seem to capture a moment in time.
Time in loss is a bit tricky. The more time goes by, they say, the more healing. But the more time that goes by, the longer it’s been since I’ve seen my momma.
Also, in the months just past loss, the days whiz by. If I’m not noticing the miracles that lie in them, how will I remember them?
I think I will fill these books up. Maybe it’ll be with my family’s laughs and smiles, my dad’s hugs, or my momma’s memories.
Thank you, Jenna, for the reminder that being grateful in all of this is still ok.
Thank you for reading.
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