Grief lives here..

Dear Emersyn,

I can talk to you anytime, and if I ask, you will appear in my dreams. That is what I have been told about losing you. I have not seen you in my dreams since you were alive, and I am not sure why. Today marks 17 years since you passed away on a Tuesday that had morning snow in April just like we did today. I have lived since then, but so differently than I would have if you were here. It is hard to believe you would be turning 18 this year. I can’t let grief take  me under, because I have your incredible siblings here who need me. But I also need to connect with you as a parent’s love does not stop when our children die.

Life has been too busy with work, kids’ sports, and balancing a few too many commitments. I have not made time for grief in a while. One might think that after 17 years, the need to make time for grief is not as essential as it was on April 7th 2009, and in those early days, weeks, months, and years we endured right after you passed. What I have learned is that today, perhaps even more than in those early times, it is essential that I make time for grief. To let her in, to welcome her, to offer her kindness, and listen to what she has to say. She sits with me, and we let out a heavy sigh that lingers, as if it might clear the air. I try to name what I’m feeling at that moment. Oftentimes, I can’t, so I describe it instead, heavy like a weighted blanket on my body. An overwhelming sense of disbelief washes over me when I try to process that you were here for eight months, and now you are gone.

My eyes and heart feel heavy; the fatigue of grief is real. The anger and frustration that have been bubbling for weeks have their roots right here. You would think I would remember that the anticipation and buildup to this day can be harder than the day itself. These wise words were once shared with me by another bereaved parent, and I know them well. I even share them with others when needed, yet my body resets and follows the same pattern every year, the buildup, the day itself, and the recovery.

This is also true for holidays, for your birthday, and for so many moments in between. It requires a great deal of emotional and physical energy. When I ignore it, as I have been lately, my sleep is disrupted. I become more irritable. I feel stuck and weighed down. So I let her in. I give her warmth and ask her to sit with me for a while, knowing that grief lives here too, this is her home. She was born out of love and is the lifeline between me and you, Emersyn. I ran from her for a long time, seeking help from anyone I thought could provide relief from this unimaginable pain. I don’t know exactly when I befriended her, but over time, trust was built, and grief became an aching, essential part of my heart.

Steven Kalas wrote an analogy of grief that I connected to right away in the early years of grief. Here are some of his words that I carry with me…

“Your grief is awful, but it is also holy. And somewhere inside you, you know that. The goal is not to get over it. The goal is to get on with it’.

You and grief together can begin to compose hope.

You don’t get over it. Getting over it is an inappropriate goal. An unreasonable hope. The loss of a child changes you. It changes your marriage. It changes the way birds sing. It changes the way the sun rises and sets. You are forever different.

You don’t want to get over it. Don’t act surprised. As awful a burden as grief is, you know intuitively that it matters, that it is profoundly important to be grieving. Your grief plays a crucial part in staying connected to your child’s life. To give up your grief would mean losing your child yet again. If I had the power to take your grief away, you’d fight me to keep it. Your grief is awful, but it is also holy. And somewhere inside you, you know that.

The goal is not to get over it. The goal is to get on with it.

Profound grief is like being in a stage play wherein suddenly the stagehands push a huge grand piano into the middle of the set. The piano paralyzes the play. It dominates the stage. No matter where you move, it impedes your sight lines, your blocking, your ability to interact with the other players. You keep banging into it,surprised each time that it’s still there. It takes all your concentration to work around it, this at a time when you have little ability or desire to concentrate on anything.

The piano changes everything. The entire play must be rewritten around it. But over time the piano is pushed to stage left. Then to upper stage left. You are the playwright, and slowly, surely, you begin to find the impetus and wherewithal to stop reacting to the intrusive piano. Instead, you engage it. Instead of writing every scene around the piano, you begin to write the piano into each scene, into the story of your life.

You learn to play that piano. You’re surprised to find that you want to play, that it’s meaningful, even peaceful to play it. At first your songs are filled with pain, bitterness, even despair. But later you find your songs contain beauty, peace, a greater capacity for love and compassion. You and grief — together — begin to compose hope. Who’da thought?

Your grief becomes an intimate treasure, though the spaces between the grief lengthen. You no longer need to play the piano every day, or even every month. But later, when you’re 84, staring out your kitchen window on a random Tuesday morning, you welcome the sigh, the tears, the wistful pain that moves through your heart and reminds you that your child’s life mattered.

You wipe the dust off the piano and sit down to play”.

Today I invited grief back home. She never really left, I was just too busy to share space with her. For me there is not a day that my grief is not with me. So I sit down, invite her in, and together we play the piano for you, Emersyn, composing a song of love, hope, and sacredness that binds us together, always.

I love you and miss you so much Emersyn.

Love,

Mom

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

Sweet 16 on September 16th ~ Emersyn

Dear Emersyn,

Recently you told me through a very wise and spiritual woman that I don't need to go anywhere or do anything special to talk to you. You told me that I can talk to you anytime and I don't have to wait for a special moment or event to find you. You said that when I am driving in the car you are always sitting right beside me. I burst into tears when I heard this and I said "is this a burden for you always having to ride with me" and you said no Mom I am honoured. Well that just about sums you up right there doesn't it? Maybe that is why in the early years after you passed away I drove everywhere with no destination in mind, just the need to move and search for any sign or symbol of your spirit. It was an anxious journey then and now it feels heavy, sacred, sorrowful, purposeful and with a sense of knowing that you are with me.

When I am talking to you I feel like I am asking you for something which as a parent feels so backwards. I ask you for strength, guidance, perspective or to look out for your brother and sister, Granny and Grandpa and all of the family and friends that love you so much. I am deeply sorry for not talking to you more. I think instead of talking I have been connecting with you in the career I do as a school leader, Mother, friend, daughter, wife, sister and woman that I am at 47 years old. Talking hurts as it emphasizes the silence of grief, the love fountain overflowing with nothing optically to catch it. When I channel this tidal wave of raw emotion through action it helps me carry this sea of love that continues to pour over all these years later. My passion for Human Rights and true inclusion is welled from my love for you that swells around in my chest and needs a place to go and something or someone to impact in your honour. You are my fuel otherwise I would drown in my own sea of love for you if I had nowhere to navigate it on this earth. I can tell when special people recognize you in the work or in the passion that I share at times. Not everyone can see this but that is what makes those who do stand out like a beacon of light in a storm to me. I know you know these beautiful souls Emersyn because it is the same people that make me feel closer to you when I am with them. As a lifelong learner of all things I need you to know that I hear you. I need to pause and breathe and that is also talking to you. I will talk to you through slowness and breath and more writing. I promise I will do this more as you told me it is ok to rest sometimes Mom! As always you are teaching me to evolve and grow and I will never stop searching for stones to learn from you.

I am humbled at how time has suddenly given me a 13 and almost 11 year old and I stop and my breath is taken away today that you would have been 16 years old. The oldest out of my three children my first daughter Emersyn was born perfectly on September 16th 2008 at 2:00pm. Sweet 16 they say but for you I change that to strong, sassy, sincere and spectacular 16 because sweet was never a priority for any of my girls but strong with a fierce heart who advocates for what matters most absolutely. I want to share this with you out loud on your blog as you used this sign and symbol as an analogy for what I think best describes our Mother Daughter bond and mission between heaven and earth. This is for you Emersyn the magnificent, brave, leader, disruptor and lifter of others on your 16th birthday.

"The majestic angel winged horse came and swept you away to a place that existed beyond the veil

So quickly he came I could not see his face but you climbed on his back and took the reigns to fly worlds away towards the heavens

You returned in short fleeting moments each time soaring faster, stronger, determined a true heroine on a mission lifting others up leaving gems of hope in your wake

It was in these moments of finding you we learned that you did not need saving you needed us to rise to fly and soar to make a giant dent of love and change in this beautiful world on the other side of Pegasus"

Love Mom

P.S. I am far more honoured to be driving beside you 💜

~ Happy 16th Birthday Emersyn Paige Klomp you are always deeply loved xoxoxoxo

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

Pieces of You ~ Happy 15th Birthday Emersyn

How did we get to 15? It feels like yesterday I was driving home from lunch with your Dad on September 16th in 2008 waiting for labour to start. Waiting for the moment to meet you, my first child. I will always hold you in that moment in time when you were born on your due date and it felt like no other babies were born that day. Confidence soaring after you were born and I told your Dad to go home and sleep because you and I would be just fine. Almost impossible to get him to agree since he was drawn right in the moment he looked into your beautiful brown eyes. You were his girl and everyone knew it. I said I would protect you forever and that my job would be to make sure you would be ok in this world when I am gone one day. I failed at that not by choice but by genetics and I live with that everyday. SMA, I hate those letters but they never overshone the still evolving love and connection that we have with you. You are 15 and instead of thinking of all of the things that you have missed as I keep those little chapters unopened in my heart everyday, I must think about all of the people you have helped. People tell me when they are going through something really hard they think of you and feel stronger. This does not bring you back to me but it helps me to know that you live on in the good and  the hope in others. 

I picture Isla and Callum reading your blog one day and hopefully getting to know you even better. They talk about you with such ease and they miss you so much yet they never physically met you. This tells me kids need to be exposed to grief in its full journey because grief is love. They are 9 and 12 now and I am in awe of them and feel so lucky to get to know them as they grow up. As I marvel at them it aches to think what you would have done here on this earth. This morning we will head to our usual place to buy your fall planters, flowers for your vase and decorations for your spot at Glen Oaks. We will sing you happy birthday and say hello to the other babies in the Garden of Angels. Dad takes a walk at the cemetery and I need space to sit on your bench in front of your stone just you and I. This is our day the day you were born where I remember feeling sadness that you would no longer be safe within me and so elated to meet you.Tears are notes from the heart and as I sit here in our living room this morning writing this I see sunbeams hitting your picture and cry with both love and grief. Please don’t think this grief takes away from our love. My heart could burst with how much my love for you overflows.

My grief carries me now as much as I carry it. We know each other well. Instead of wishing grief would leave I have made a room for grief that is filled with all of the things I love and all of the comforts needed to catch me when fall. I invite others into that room who need comfort in their grief journey as a rest stop and when they leave they take a piece of you with them. I like to think that there are pieces of you in every human you have helped over the years like seeds growing and making this world better. You put people at ease and awe Emersyn and you inspire them to keep going and take care of others who need it most along the way.

Happy 15th birthday to my first born beautiful child Emersyn Paige. You lived and you live on in your family who will always carry your legacy and recognize the gifts you send at just the right time when we need it most.

With deepest love and gratitude,

Mom xoxo

14 Years

I remember being on my lunch break as a grade 1 teacher and checking my voicemail messages. I was waiting on my 18 week ultrasound results for our first born child and I remember replaying the message from my Midwife, “Melanie everything looks good and you are having a girl”! I remember playing that message over and over again while sharing the news with my teaching partners and feeling a complete sense of joy and excitement. I picked names with my students and shared them with Jay and my extra picky sisters and Scottish parents to find the perfect name. It was a huge search for the name of the first granddaughter who followed four beautiful grandsons in our family and we chose Emersyn or rather she chose us. Emersyn means Home Strength and it is these words we chose to have engraved on to her stone at Glen Oaks.

14 years ago you passed and I can still feel the warmth of the sheets we were laying on beside you in the hospital bed at McMaster. I remember the sounds of Brahms' lullaby playing in the room, the nurses moving in and out with blankets and your Dad laying on one side of you and me on the other. I remember telling them to take the machines away as I did not need a signal to tell me when you passed because I would just know and I did. I felt you move through us as you passed and no one needed to tell us because I am your Mom and always will be. As long as I am alive this is our story, you are my story and I will share you as long as I live. I pause less worrying about the comfort of others when I talk about you or say your name. I am so proud of you and all of the people you continue to touch and inspire. I never thought I would find fulfillment or joy again after you died. I accepted in my heart and mind that I would forever feel a fraction of anything close to joy. I felt like an alien in the land of the living. I am not sure how I came back but it was not all at once but rather in shards and pieces that over time came together. I compare it to a Mosaic broken but beautiful and when the light shines through it is the warmest glow I have ever known. I am forever changed by your life and death.

I remember reading every book written by bereaved parents that I could get my hands on. I needed to see myself in their words and lived experiences. I needed to know that I was going to survive losing my daughter, my girl, my heart. I called bereaved Moms I had never met before who offered to meet with me and I went. I needed to hear about their children, their stories and see their faces. I needed to connect with other SMA Mom’s whose children were newly diagnosed and let them know that they were not alone. They let me hold their babies and I cherished every second as I tried to comfort others and feel close to you. I was searching for you and I needed to prove that you were still with me. I was exhausted but completely compelled to plug into you. I was desperate and felt a constant sense of roaming. I did not see you in my dreams because you were still so real to me. I missed the weight of your body in my arms, your deep brown eyes and the way your whole hand would wrap around my finger even when your physical strength declined you still found a way.

I am strong and vulnerable because of you. I can laugh again but deeper because of you. I can sense when others are in pain and I can sit with that pain more openly because of you. I have deep compassion for struggle because of you and I am so much more forgiving. I can lead, and laugh and love more authentically because of you. I carry the same pain and I carry you which is the purest form of love and joy that I aim to share with as many people as I can while I am on this earth. Emersyn you are my heart and I sent a piece of mine with you and took a piece of yours with me. I have always described my grief journey as a Mosaic both broken and beautiful and when the light shines through it is the warmest glow I have ever seen.

I miss you beyond time and space and love you more than love.

Love,

Mom, Dad, Isla and Callum xoxo

Happy 14th Birthday Emersyn ~

Happy 14th birthday Emersyn my beautiful girl. Why after so long is this still so hard?  I try to rationalize that after all these years I should be ok to go to work on your birthday or feel “ok” since it is JUST only a single day. I get frustrated with myself as I try to associate strength with carrying on with normal life however you have taught me that strength is also being able to stop and allow grief. I wrestle with this after all these years as I have worked hard at honoring my grief so to stop and allow it when I know I could try to keep going is difficult but necessary. I have integrated your death into everything I do which makes me feel both proud of how far I have traveled in my journey and also heartbroken and humbled by the waves of grief that I know I must succumb to. I am a parent and this is what we do. We keep going for our kids but there are so many times that I am sure you are carrying me.

There was nothing more transformative for me than September 16th 2008. I remember every detail of your birth right down to the warmth of the September sunlight that poured through our hospital room that day. I actually thought the sunshine that afternoon was cued just for you. Warm golden sunlight streaming down on your birthday and snow randomly falling on the day you passed in April. Every parent feels like our own children are different, special ,unique and extraordinary to the point where no one else could possibly understand. And the truth is we are all right as there is no child more incredible than our own because we believe in our kids even more than we believe in ourselves. 

I was humbled when I looked at your dark brown eyes for the first time and realized I was chosen to be your Mom. I could not stop smiling and showing you off! Even when I had not slept in those early days when we brought you home I wanted friends and family to come over immediately and meet you as I thought if they didn’t they would be deprived of the greatest joy anyone could feel, meeting you the baby wise beyond her years who had a healing sense of peace about her. You knew how impactful you would be and how your legacy would have a transformative effect on so many. We knew you were amazing, we just didn’t know that we would only be gifted with your physical self for a short time. Watching your Dad hold you for the first time was also a gift I will never forget. You had his heart from the minute the midwives said “Jay come and hold your girl”. 

As we have gone back to school the little things I used to worry about for your brother and sister no longer worry me because of you. Anytime I feel myself starting to consider trivial things I think of you and remember what matters. I like to think that you have this grounding effect on so many people who knew you or learned about your journey. I would trade this perspective for you to be back here at home being 14 and driving us nuts but this blog, this day and these memories are all I have and I will hold this and care for our heart strings as long as I live. I hug a little longer, I advocate a little harder, I laugh and cry more fully and I love more deeply because of you.

So if you see me in September looking distracted or smiling at a dragonfly, butterfly or finding meaning in a song you know why. It is your birthday and for me this is the greatest day I ever knew because I became a Mom...your Mom. I believed in you from the minute I found out I was pregnant and that has never changed. Just like we all marvel at our living children when they accomplish something awesome I too beam when I find out that you have touched yet another life and made it better even though your physical self is no longer with us.

Happy 14th birthday to our official teenager, my beautiful brown eyed, wise, funny and magical Emersyn! I guess I can’t be too hard on myself for missing you just the same as I did when you fell asleep on my chest the day you were born and I could not wait for you to wake up. I believed in you then and I will never stop thinking I am the luckiest Mom on earth and in heaven because that’s what parents do. 

Hope you feel all of the magic heaven can conjure today my darling girl and as long as I live I will forever believe in the magic of YOU.

Love you always,

Mom, Dad, Isla and Callum xoxoxoxo

13 Years

13 years. I actually can’t believe I'm typing that number. 13 years today we have lived without you Emersyn. In the early years it was surviving without you and somehow living slowly returned as we integrated you into everything we are and do. This did not come without feeling guilty the first time we actually laughed, had family photos taken or went on our first family road trip without you. That was and will continue to be hard and depending on what we are doing or the day it still is. When people say “I can’t imagine” losing a child to be honest neither can I. I remember like it was yesterday our family and friends coming into our room in the ICU at McMaster to say good-bye. I remember time standing still and the snow that started falling that April day moments after you passed. I remember the nurses giving us space while bringing us blankets and making sure we felt supported. I still step back and cannot believe that you are physically gone. I am not sure how I have integrated losing you into every aspect of my life but I know that I have. You are the reason I look for the good in people and find hope in situations that seem impossible. Parenting you without being able to talk to you is not easy but I have learned that you are “the right thing to do” voice in my mind that helps guide me.

None of this makes up for losing you or the long and incredible life you should have had here on earth. When I look at how funny, compassionate and unique your brother and sister are I feel a deep sorrow and need to know just how much of a unique soul you would have grown into. As I write this I realize more and more that you were a gift not just to our family but to so many. I know you have helped so many people feel stronger and more resilient in their own struggles. Knowing this does not make your death any easier for us but I know that it honours you and gives you a legacy which means so much to us. 

I am a better person because of you. I have deep grief that I carry with me that I continue to learn to respect and make space for. Grief only happens where there is love so I hold space for this sacred duality. My head knew instantly that your physical self passed as we held you in that moment in time but it has taken time and surrender to mourning you that has allowed my heart to understand. My head knows you passed the day you died but my heart relearns this everyday. There is a saying “the person doing the talking is the person doing the learning”. That is why I write because this is me talking to you and learning to physically live without you. I have learned to not only connect with you through grief but also through the moments in the day that make me stop and think about the right thing to do. Thank-you Emersyn for the signs you send that are undeniably you and for the nudge in the right direction that you send when we need it most. We know you continue to be a source of courage, integrity and hope for so many and feel so lucky to be your parents.

Missing and loving you always,

Mom xoxoxoxoxo

Emersyn's 13th Birthday Letter

Dearest Emersyn,

We simply cannot believe that you would have been 13 years old today. Very similar weather today as the day you were born. Sunshine so bright it was as if Mother Nature was just as ecstatic about this magnificent day as we were. I always thought before having kids that the "time flies by so fast" saying was a cliche until I had you and lost you. I can honestly say it feels like yesterday that I was in Oakville Trafalgar hospital beaming from ear to ear feeling like the luckiest human on earth to be your Mom. 

I remember saying to Dad in the car ride home sitting in the back seat with you "if anything happens to this beautiful baby I will not be able to cope". I had no reason to say that on the sunny peaceful drive home as 13 years ago on this day we did not know what SMA was or that you had this horrible tragic genetic disease. We had no idea what was ahead and I am so glad we had no clue what was to come as this time 13 years ago was euphoric and indescribable in terms of the joy we felt at becoming not only parents but YOUR parents. We knew you were incredibly special and sensed that you had a soul and mind much wiser and older than your newborn age. 

You are a teenager now my dear beautiful magical child. I can sort of picture you with your deep brown eyes, dark hair and magnetic beaming smile. I have often considered asking an artist to sketch for us what you might look like now as there are many times I am desperate to know. It really hit me hard getting your flowers and balloons this morning at Longo's thinking about how you should be entering a whole new amazing phase in your life as a teenager. Your Dad and I feel so sad to have missed all these years with you and talked about how awesome it would have been to see you thriving and growing up. We are picturing you in grade 8 entering high school and graduating and wondering what path and journey you would  have embarked upon and it really hurts. We are so deeply sorry that you have missed this my dear daughter. 

If only the treatments that are available today for SMA were available 12 years ago. I think about that everyday and try to feel just happy for others but I can't help but feel deep pain, anger and guilt as a parent that these treatments were not available when you were diagnosed. We carry this with us and still feel our hearts overflowing with love and joy for you. The heart is incredible to carry all of this at once. That is the thing with grief it stays deeply embedded in our souls and hearts alongside the love and pride we have as your parents. We know that you understand our grief is a lifeline to you and your legacy and story lives through both our love story for you and our grief journey.

You certainly chose your siblings well as they woke up this morning asking to go to your spot after school as this is their normal with our family. Isla and Callum don't know what it is like to have "non bereaved parents" and they like to go to the cemetery and bring something special just for you. When they were toddlers they used to run around Glen Oaks and we would have to stop them from stealing the toys and stuffed animals from other children's spots and now they go and they sit on your bench and sing to you and bring something to show their love. Both of them created little paintings early this week and added butterflies and dragonflies just for you. I had no idea where they found these supplies and I just found their creations on the kitchen counter with your name on it.

The teenage years are for self discovery and so much excitement in the years ahead. You, my beautiful girl, already knew who you were and what your purpose was before we did. Your ongoing inspiration and resiliency continues to encourage so many people to "just keep swimming" and stopping to take it all in. No matter how difficult things may seem, you ground our family and so many others with your story and your spirit which continues to surface when we need you most. Similar to "time flies by so fast" the other saying I used to deem a cliche was "life is short". This saying could not be more true and I know the teenager you would want people to be grateful for each day and embrace the moments so I will be sure to pass this message along on your birthday. You have taught us that life is hard but it is also beautiful.

Thank-you for the sun rays at Glen Oaks this morning and for reminding us that cliches are cliches for a reason. "Time flies by so fast" and "life is short" so to anyone reading this embrace the day, never give up and spread love because we need it now more than ever.

Happy 13th birthday Emersyn your legacy is still going strong and I can't wait to see what other great lessons and signs you will send the Universe.

With love beyond this physical world,   

Mom ,Dad, Isla and Callum xoxoxo 

12 Years ~ Lemonade

Today marks 12 years since you passed away Emersyn. I contemplated whether I should write on your blog that I have written on for the past 12 years. I talked to your Dad about not writing today and asked - why am I still writing 12 years later? As always he brought things into perspective for me when he said that I should only be writing here if it helps me and possibly even one other person reading this. As he said this I remembered what you have taught me which is the only way through is through.The pathway to healing is in the journey and oftentimes it may feel like we can’t do it but when we continue to try we grow. I really do find great comfort in knowing that you have helped others. So here I am 12 years later writing to you because it honours your legacy while also helping me and hopefully others to find meaning and comfort on this journey. 

What a year this has been reinventing ourselves during our global pandemic. Digging deep we have all found resiliency, sorrow and gratitude all whirled into one as we navigate this ever evolving time in history. It has been a long road and although we are almost nearing the end of the pandemic we are not there yet. On the hardest days when we miss the normalcy of visiting carefree with our loved ones I think of you and remind myself there will be nothing harder than losing you and we will all make it through this. However, making it through does not come without a greater need and awareness for true self care and compassion towards others and ourselves. I have learned that I cannot passively make it through a journey. I have learned if I do not play an active role in navigating and acknowledging where I am it is more challenging. This does not negate the struggle but it does make it lighter. As a bereaved parent I have learned that stepping aside and making space for grief has allowed me to take some time to be mindful, breathe and reflect on how far we have come and remember you. When I hold space for grief I find you there.

Losing a child and experiencing a global pandemic are very different. I do however, find myself turning to some similar coping strategies and also notice the persistence of hope appearing again and again. Gratitude and mindfulness have been two touch stones that you have given us that I continue to turn to. The power of a few deep breaths is so simple yet grounding and powerful.

You nudge us to remember that sometimes instead of doing more we can just “be”. Just be there for a moment and take some deep breaths. Gratitude and hope tend to surface in these moments. I have also noticed that hope is stubborn and will find a way to ignite itself even as a small flicker it lights the journey. I know now that grief is the other side of love and as time has passed my grief for you has become as important and treasured as my love for you. 12 years later I miss you as much as I did the day you passed away and with time even more so.

 “Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give but cannot. All of the unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go” ~ Jamie Anderson. I have all of this love and grief and I continue to find ways ways to share it. As a family we have taken the most sour lemons as they say and tried to create lemonade that by nature will always be bittersweet yet filled with love. So to answer my question  “why am I still writing 12 years later” it is because it helps me to feel connected to you and hopefully helps someone else who may need some comfort along the way. Our lemonade isn’t perfect but it’s perfectly ours and if it helps even one person then it’s worth sharing.

We miss you to the moon and back Emersyn and we feel your absence and your presence daily. You are the hope that continues to ignite within us.

Love,

Mom, Dad, Isla and Callum xoxo