Today was beautiful. And for the most part, I was present. I watched my grandson experience so many firsts, and as he was falling asleep, he simply said “thank you, Lolli”. The day was so vibrant for that sweet baby, that at three, he wanted me to know that it meant something to him. My Lolli’s heart melted and I smothered him with hugs and sugars, but what he didn’t know, nor would I ever let him know, was that Lolli was having a hard time. He made it better for sure, and without a doubt shines the brightest light in my life but what lies under my surface is often out of my control. Or understanding.
If I’m not actively doing something or mentally planning something, I start to tank. Being still is something I dread. But if I’m too busy, making sure every waking hour is spent productively, going non-stop, I start to tank. Too far one way and I sink into the dreaded “G” word. Too far the other way, I burn out, trip and fall into it. Finding the happy medium is an endless tight rope walk, and today I felt myself teetering.
I’m not sure I’ll ever find the happy medium because I’m driven AND I’m running. Driven to walk out my purpose, and running from my pain.
That purpose is loving the family that I played a part in creating, like my precious little fisherman that loves to fish but hates the actual fish. It’s also making sense out of the senseless loss of his daddy and making sure that no other little fisherman has to experience catching his or her first fish with their momma or daddy watching from above. Some days I feel as though I’ve accomplished what so many of us that have said goodbye are striving for, and on those days purpose stakes a flag at the top of Mt. Mourning. Other days, I merely refuse to allow myself to believe that the pain should be allowed to win the race, so I push through.
Limp through is more like it.
Run, walk, limp. But never stop.
I’m not sure why this absolutely perfect day had a tinge of sadness. It shouldn’t have. I certainly didn’t want it to, but it was there and I felt it. Declan didn’t know, nor did anyone else that was there, but I did. I watched him play, and laughed at his shenanigans but I was hurting. Bald eagles and ospreys soared above my head as I watched in awe, and if you know me, you know bald eagles are Hagen’s way of saying “hi”, but I was hurting. I was removed from the outside world as I sat on the sand banks and listened to the purity of nature, but I was hurting. I knew while I sat in this day that I would never have another one like it, so I fought the pain and made myself be present.
But. I. Was. Hurting.
It sucked. And it was perfect.
That is life on the tightrope.
And that is life with a piece of your heart in heaven.
Tomorrow I’ll likely be completely fine, albeit a little aggravated that it wasn’t today, but I’ll still have the memories.
And the eagles.
And the sleepy little thank you that I’ll remember forever.
Because I was present while I was hurting.
