I find myself wondering where I am on this journey of grief and healing. Knowing that it will never end, but that it does not often overwhelm me as it did in the early days, I sometimes question what I should be doing to go deeper, to heal faster, to accept, to move forward with Emily at the hub of my wheel.

 

I’ve written a lot about gratitude and serendipity. Each morning, I wake up and welcome Emily’s presence in my life and ask for her to be ever-present, protecting me, providing me with serendipitous moments, granting our family experiences that assure us that we are loved. Gratitude has been at the centre of all my practices, even though this seems counterintuitive during times of grief.

 

I have found that the most healing I experience, the most peace I receive, is when I am practicing gratitude. How can that even be? I don’t understand it, but because I know it works, I do it.

 

I am sitting in my finally-finished office, looking out on the front-yard trees, blowing in the sea winds that reach our house. Yesterday we ate a tomato, a strawberry and a pea-pod. These plants that started as seeds are now producing food! It’s one of those miracles we forget to acknowledge as we eat unless we are gardeners. What a delight! My zucchini and cucumbers and squashes and pumpkins all have bright yellow flowers, ready to burst into fruit. The honeysuckle trellis is overflowing with orange and pink and fragrance and bees. The evening lights are strung, I’ve worked out how to use the hoses without completely soaking myself each day, and I am getting up each morning to water as the beginning of my routine.

 

Yes, I have started a routine again! I water the garden, I Worldle, I meditate, I read, I “plork” (play and work) on my online course I am creating: doing this until noon, and then I am free to move through the other obligations and wants that are part of my life. I love having the morning set aside as Leah-time that benefits both me and others. I love that I am working on things I love, and that the sabbatical is turning into something that is productive and meaningful for me and for others.

 

The ache that sat in the pit of my stomach is mostly gone, the tears still come, but they are tempered, and the depth and richness of my relationships with both Don and Charlotte have deepened immeasurably. Charlotte and her biological sister Mollie have found one another and met, which is nothing short of miraculous, and a gift from our Emily, knowing she was ready. You can read about it in the blog Sisters or on the podcast 2 Chit Chat Chicks, entitled “Gaining A Sister!” If ever there were a sign that our Emily is with us, this is it.

 

We spent last two weekends ago in Seattle getting to know Mollie and two of her mamas. It was filled with this emotional buzzing that we still have not fully processed. We feel deeply that it is right, that it is a gift for Charlotte and Mollie (and for all of us parents), and we know that this will only deepen and hardwire our family to one another and to our Emily even more. It’s indescribable, really.

 

I am convinced that when we open our hearts, miracles, serendipitous occurrences, are waiting for us. Every day I feel this more. How did it take the tragic death of my beloved daughter for me to see this? I pray that this can transfer to others who also loved Emily, and that people, who are not in the midst of the loss of a loved one, can also open their hearts to this.

 

I have come to love the quiet moments of the morning where I can regulate my breathing, still my body and mind chatter (though it keeps coming back – there you are again, old monkey mind!), and just BE. When I am in that place that exists outside of my physical body, then I am WITH Emily, and I am not lonely. I am replenished and renewed, and I can go forward and find peace and often joy in my days. How wondrous. Blue skies seemed so very far away short months ago, both literally and figuratively. Now I am surprised when the sky is stormy. But that too is okay. All is okay. Every emotion that comes forward is one to be accepted and honoured.

 

I feel that I may be repeating myself in my blogs these days. Sometimes I think I should have a really horrible day so I can write about struggle. Of course, I struggle. Of course, I hate it that Emily will never physically walk in the door again. The many IF ONLIES come up again and again, especially when Don and I grieve together as parents.

 

BUT the peace outweighs the struggles. The universe makes room for everyone in my past and present. I have been reading about NDEs (Near Death Experiences), and am so intrigued by how millions of people have completely changed their lives and KNOW WITHOUT A DOUBT that their loved ones beyond are still with them when they came back to their lives on earth. I am so comforted by this, but mostly affirmed, because I have chosen to believe this from Day One. 

 

So as I edge closer to noon and get ready to take on other aspects of the day that do not involve as much introspection or alone time, I will offer myself up to be the light in the room, the person who makes space for others, and who moves about expecting good things to happen, even when the worst has. I will not be the Pollyanna or the relentlessly positive person, but the person who can smile, be patient, listen, give space, hug, and put out the energy that will renew me, and in doing so, hopefully renew others.

 

This is where I am at today. This is what I deliberately choose to do.