17

 Emersyn is 17 years old today. I remember thinking the same thing on the day she was born and on the day she died - the world needs to stop and honour our beautiful girl. The world has continued at a rapid rate since her passing in 2009 and the cliche of “times flies” is all the more real with each passing birthday, angel date or regular day when the waves and truth of grief show up. When I was at her spot this morning where she was laid to rest, I asked for something out loud that I needed help with. A few minutes later I got in my car to leave the cemetery and the phone rang and my request had come true. There it was - the knowing and trust that she will find me on these days because I am counting on her to lift the veil and almost touch my shoulder so I don’t slide too far down in my grief. I needed that message this morning and in true first child form she found me clear as a bell with her assurance and help. Would I have asked for this help had I not created space for mourning today…..I don’t think she would have found me in the same way. 

Everywhere we look in our new world the pace is fast. In a world of chat GBT and the rapid speed at which we can receive support and answers, I find the art of thoughtfulness and expression has been impacted. I feel that I have permission to talk about Emersyn on her birthday or angel date. I need the openness to talk about her everyday as naturally and unedited as I would my living children. Only another bereaved parent truly understands the depth of this need. It feels like a deep well that overflows in a bereaved parents heart that we try to carry and not spill over until we feel safe to share. We need space to share where others can truly allow us to talk about our kids. That is how we parent our kids who have died, we share not only who they were but what we imagined for them and how we need to honour them. Grief is the other side of love; it must be as talked about and normalized in the same way.

I talk about Emersyn to help others who are struggling. This past summer we had an unexpected loss of Freddie, the beautiful heart horse that Isla was part boarding and deeply connected with. Isla and I were there when he passed unexpectedly and I remember saying to Isla and others there that day, when we lost Emersyn the most sacred thing we could do was be there for her during her passing. This helped Isla as she was able to lean into this during a traumatic event and I saw Emersyn’s wisdom and impact helping in this moment which is what she does best. I was not able to return to the barn for a month as it was really hard to see Isla, Freddie and the other people who loved him go through that terrible loss. I returned this past weekend to watch Isla ride and not one but two gorgeous butterflies swooped and soared over me. This was Emersyn letting us know that Freddie was with her and she was taking good care of him on the other side. I needed that and so did Isla. Isla your resiliency is remarkable.

And now I will speak directly to you Emersyn……I often think - why do really awful things continue to happen to the same people. How much suffering can one human take? I know I will never have answers in this lifetime but I can only imagine it has to do with guiding others. You have taught us to carry the unmeasurable pain of losing a child while also enduring hardships along the journey while reminding us how to love ourselves and each other. You have taught me to speak out using compassion and kindness and always imagine ways to make things better for others or help ease suffering. Life moves fast and you remind me that I don’t have to and I can set the pace and in doing so thoughtfully choose where I pour my heart work. Carrying pain and expressing it wholeheartedly while using that pain to help others heal is the real teaching. 

I hope you and Freddie are flying high knowing you continue to heal others and teach about the importance of slowing down for one another in this fast life. You remind me to pace each day as it is not promised to any of us. On the days sweet Freddie cheered me up as I looked in his knowing eyes I always felt closer to you. I know you are taking care of each other and jumping big on your 17th birthday in heaven. I will never need AI to capture your legacy. I promise to forever speak from my heart and hopefully even help one person carry their grief, hardship or pain a little lighter.

Happy Birthday Emersyn we love and treasure you always,

Mom

P.S. Thanks for the butterfly you sent to Isla this week that landed right on her hand. You pick your moments and we see you perfectly.

Awareness ~

Awareness 

April 7th, 2009, will always be the day the world stopped. I needed no social media notification, news story, or emergency alert to tell me this soul-collapsing truth. We were there with you, lying beside you, and felt your spirit leave your earthly body. Just like that, a final breath on planet Earth before you crossed over. I felt every move of that and was hyper-aware of the snow falling outside of our hospital room, the warmth surrounding us, and the sound of Brahms’ lullaby playing in the background. Awareness—acute and total awareness— as we dressed you and lay with you until it was time for us to carry you home.

We walked out of the hospital as parking garages were closed for your sacred walk from the room to our car. I held you in my arms, and our friend drove us to the funeral home, where we brought you inside and sat with you while the light shone down on your dark, shiny hair and beautiful, perfect face. I tuned out the traffic and noises outside of these spaces that day, but I was intensely aware of certain things that connected both worlds: the snow, the sunlight warming the room, the nurse who brought the three of us warm blankets, the butterfly card from another bereaved mom that had fallen from the dash to my seat where I sat holding my girl, the sorrow of our family and friends that day when they found out you passed. I will never forget the look on Jason’s face when we left the hospital with our daughter lying on her sheepskin, looking like an Angel. He was and I was forever changed with a new sense of awareness that ripped our souls apart at the core and shattered our hearts.

This awareness was a new sense of knowing that has never left me. There was an anesthetic effect from the shock of grief in the early years which made it challenging to listen to this knowing, as I was not ready to accept that this was my new state of being. I am a bereaved parent, and I say that now with both ache and sacred grace. I remember a counselor once telling me they felt very sad that Jay and I refer to ourselves as not only parents but bereaved parents. He said that was a sad reference that he hoped we would one day reframe. I said to him, I hope we never reframe this, as what you grieve most, you love deeply.

No one ever wants to be in the club that we belong to, but only those in this never-talked-about club can understand. For many years, I tuned out things that I could not give energy to. Certain events and big group gatherings felt like a direct threat to the broken shards of myself that I could not seem to hold together. I had to journey on a new, unknown path to healing, where I had no map, compass, or light to guide me. Grief is inherently lonely as no two people grieve at the same time in the same way. I was governed by my gut, instincts, and what has now become, 16 years later, a knowing. This deep knowing is you and I feel you with me every day. I find dimes, butterflies, meet good people and hear songs that feel like you are saying an enthusiastic “hi mom” or “take a breath and slow down mom just chill" just when I need it most. When I am searching for the right thing to do there you are nudging me along in the right direction.

You are my superpower, my knowing, and my bridge between this world and the other—the one where you are always in that warm light that feels like a huge hug on a peaceful Spring day. I am intensely aware of the moments that I know will be in my mind and heart on replay forever.

When Isla rested her head on my shoulder for a brief moment before stepping out of the car as she went into the barn last week, after we had a great talk on the way to her lesson. That warmed my heart and stopped me in my tracks. Even after a long day at work, I wasn’t letting that moment miss me. When Callum asked about what I am bringing to decorate your spot at Glen Oaks today and he smiled and admired the solar Angel that I picked out. When I walked out of work this week after a Spring snowfall that resulted in icy roads and your dad was waiting for me to make sure I got home safely. When I see a person reflect on how they have treated someone and do better next time. When I visit my family or friends, any stress of the day begins to melt away and is replaced by laughter and a much needed hug! These are the moments that I am very aware of as these are the times when I feel you with me most. Life is short, be aware and breathe, reset and carry forward doing the best you can and always remember no one is perfect. This is what I am sure you are saying to me.

Thank you for grounding me in a world where the moments that truly matter can sometimes feel elusive. With so much noise from social media and the constant swirl of distractions, it’s easy to overlook the quiet gifts of awareness, mindfulness, and trusting our instincts. Thank you for reminding me to slow down when I get caught up in the rush of work and life, and for teaching me that the real treasures lie in being present for what truly matters. Emersyn, it has been 16 years since you left this world physically, but my sense of your spiritual presence only deepens as I continue my journey of healing. What we grieve, we love, and while I will always be a bereaved Mom, above all, I will always be your Mom. I remain profoundly aware and proud of your light, and my heart is filled with awe for the love you continue to send.

Missing and loving you always with a deep knowing that I will hug you again one day and oh what a feeling that will be.

Love,

Mom xoxoxoxo