Shores of Grief ~ 15 Years

15 years ago on April 7th we said goodbye to you beautiful Emersyn. Swimming in the ocean with the kids this week I felt closer to you. In the moments when the breeze hit softly I felt closer  to you. 15 years ago you died and time is no factor in loving and missing you. Losing a child is a different kind of loss. I still have an innate need to parent you by sharing you and your life with others. We are the keepers of your legacy and that is both an honour and the deepest sorrow my heart will ever carry.

Every family holiday we look like a family of four yet we feel like a family of five. As I watched Callum swimming in the ocean at ten years old I wondered just how you missed all of this. Isla the tween growing up so fast yet when she fell asleep on the bus ride to the resort from the airport brought me right back to when you were all babies. Although you have missed all of these years on earth we feel you have been here with us experiencing the nuanced moments that mean the most. It’s not the dinners at the beach but the way the kids hold my hand on our walk back from the beach that I feel most grateful for and connected to you. Cal will take my hand and proudly walk beside me. Isla will subtly lay her head on my shoulder and give me a side eye and laugh which means she still loves me. I weave words of then and now as that is how I’ve coped with and carried your death. Integrating you into my career, my friends, my gratitude for my family and simple things like writing your name in the sand on vacation. Every time we write your name in the sand I feel some peace. It is temporary much like the letters that wash away with the tide and carry your name back to the ocean. So much like the tides of grief that ebb and flow but are a deep part of who I am.

I love that the kids will just pick up a shell or a stick and start writing Emersyn so thoughtfully in the sand. When I need a walk by myself on the beach Dad knows why and when he does the same I get it. The weeks leading up to your angel date are typically harder than the actual day for us. This is the first yeat we have gone away during this time and nature has helped to bring us some comfort in the midst of  sorrow and feelings of angst. People will say I don’t know how you got through losing your child. I could never do that. The truth is you don’t get through it, you carry your child’s legacy everywhere and share it with those you feel a connection with. It is a deep soul exhaustion of love when you carry your child in your heart only. When people see you in me that is my greatest accomplishment just like the joy I feel when others see the magic in Isla and Callum.

I’m thankful for the beach this past week for helping me to carry the weight of grief. Thankful for the rhythm of the waves that soothed my soul, the sand that softened our strides, the beautiful monarch butterfly picture that we noticed at the perfect time, the schools of tropical fish, little curious birds, warm breezes that felt like hugs and much needed moments of laughter and love with the family. Life is not perfect, it is not meant to be. Most of life is hard but the love and hope we feel are gifts that keep us going. You found us like you always do, centered our perspective once again and made sure Mother Nature took care of us as the tides of grief came to shore. We love you Emersyn and miss you within the deepest parts of our hearts and we see you in all things in nature and in the kindness and compassion of others.

I love being your Mom xoxoxoxo