Six years later

For the last week I have started this post and deleted. Started and deleted. I haven't found the words that I've been looking for, they haven't felt right, or I've just not been comfortable with the vulnerability they require. November is a rough month  no matter which way we look at it.

The month starts off with the anniversary of my brother's death. It has been six years and like yesterday I can remember the phone call, where I was standing, what I was doing, how I was walking my son out to the green suburban outside of my apartment. My sister called me and I was loading the kids up, I answered and she beat around the bush making small talk. Once I'd settled my youngest into his infant car seat and strapped him in I shut the door. That's when she told me my brother was gone, the rest of the conversation was a blur. To this day I don't remember the specifics but more so the edges of that conversation. My life was in chaos at that point in time, my marriage was quickly crumbling and my husband was cheating on me but I hadn't found proof yet. I was just anxiously waiting for the moment when he killed me instead. I had a five month old that didn't sleep, he had an undiagnosed food allergy, and screamed at me twenty-four seven. I was already drowning and so I pushed my pain to the side and kept doggy-paddling.

About a week later a good friend would also die, tragically and suddenly. Once again I went into doggy paddling mode and barely tread water. There wasn't much I could do and so, I just kept moving forward. By November 17th, there wasn't much left of me but sheer sustenance. The word came across my internet world that an online friend was going in for an induction because they'd found that her son had no heartbeat at 34 weeks and I was running on fumes. We worked tirelessly to raise money and funds, a headstone was needed and we wanted to provide whatever comfort we could. Suddenly all the uselessness I felt regarding my brother and my friend came to a head and in a private group I volunteered to cook meals for the family of the stillborn. I was the closest physically in the group only being 2 hours away and I was a great cook. I could cook and freeze enough meals for at least a month's time and the group decided that was something that we could provide the family. I had no idea what their food preferences were. I didn't know if there were any food allergies. I didn't know if the family had others bringing them meals, but our online community confirmed they'd accepted the offer and I set out on a mission. This was how I could I could pay it forward. I cooked endlessly. The cheating husband asked me why I was wasting my time, what if they didn't like my cooking, how could I do this for a family I barely knew? I didn't answer, I just kept at it. Chicken fettuccine Alfredo, chili, enchiladas, lasagna, breakfast burritos, bakes, and so on. I went day in and day out, for two days straight. My feet killed me, my back ached from wearing my five month old in the ergo and trying to keep him happy. My breasts ached from not nursing him as often as I should have and finally I felt I had created enough food to last them an entire month.

When I delivered the chest of food I had no idea that the green chest marked with our phone number and last name would eventually be returned to me from the same man I would later marry as we pulled it out of the depths of the garage he lived in. When I handed off the bottle of sage tincture to the fellow surrogate that had asked for help in drying up her milk I had no idea I would later spend years in a custody battle that her and my husband would be locked into. When I looked at her boyfriend as he walked by me and grabbed the chest of food, I had no idea we would years later have a son together. As my own husband closed the door behind us, I had no idea that he just like her would have been involved in multiple affairs and lies and would break my heart so deeply I didn't know if I'd ever recover from it.

But I did. And this week brings back many thoughts and emotions and feelings. Yesterday I watched my new husband bend over his son's grave and I notated his work clothes. He hadn't even taken the time to change, and then my attention was drawn to his hands that were worked, and cracked and actively scrubbing at his son's headstone. I stood behind him and over him, looking down on him wondering what I could do for him. How I could ease his pain and how I could help him. I frantically looked at the family sitting kitty corner to us with their three children playing tag across the cemetery as they celebrated their own child's birth date. I looked at the numerous headstones set around my husband's son and I thought, "This isn't just their reality anymore". So many live it, and now so do we. And I looked back in a warp speed rewind all those little moments of history and thought, "And now G is his brother, too".

I glanced back at my husband, he brushed away the grass from the headstone that had so obviously been neglected for a long time. He pulled out a pen from his pocket and started cleaning out the lettering and figurines engraved upon the headstone. The headstone had been neglected and was very much worse for the wear. At that moment in time there wasn't anything but a man loving his son in the only way he could, and I fell that much more protective of him. He hides his grief well, he always puts himself last. His grief for C has come out gradually ever since I lost my father. My vulnerability and acceptance of pain are not always forthcoming and when he grows frustrated with my need to hide it I quickly call him to the mat with his own and he looks at me with those hazel green eyes and pours his soul back into me. We each have our demons and battles and we both have never had a safe place before this, until now. I watch him grow and learn how to accept his grief and pain and I fall further and farther into wanting to protect him. He brushed away the last of the grass clippings and the neighboring family asked if he wanted to use an extra bottle of water to wash it. He was startled out of his deep thoughts and made an attempt at a joke and said that he'd be back later to clean it. He focused on the headstone next to it and brushed away more grass clippings, muttering how could it be ignored. His ex'es other son had recently been buried there as well and this was another spot of his grief.

I knelt down and put my hand on his back and for a few moments I saw the weakest parts of my husband and he became all that much more of a superhero to me. He carries the battle of so much more than any of us can imagine. I kissed his back and he stood up and grabbed my hand. "Let's get home to G," he whispered. BK had placed the glass flowers his mother had made into C's holder and I glanced back. These were flowers my mother in law had made years and years ago when he and C's mother were together. They had been in our home ever since I had moved in and I had gently suggested we put them at C's place a few months ago. They were C's mother's favorite color and flower, they had delivered C on BK's mother's birthday. This is where they were supposed to be. They were C's and his mother's, meant to be there. I silently prayed that God would be with her also that day, no mother should ever have a day without her baby here on earth. I knelt down and rearranged the flowers so that they wouldn't break easily by lawn-care equipment and ever so gently brushed the monkey on his headstone with my fingers. "Thank you for watching out for G," I silently breathed, and got up as the tears rolled down my cheeks hidden by my large sunglasses. All while praying to God and the Universe to not take any of our other children and asking for peace and guidance to co-parent and raise C's sister in a way that would benefit her and help her have peace and love.

When we came home G ran up to us and grabbed us by the legs and reached up for us. I scooped him up and he grabbed my cheeks between his toddler hands and he leaned in and made kissy sounds. I kissed his head and he grinned from ear to ear. BK leaned over and kissed him on his forehead, all while grinning from ear to ear. Pain in life is unavoidable. That is the lesson we've both agreed exists. It is there, ever present. But, it isn't what life throws at you - it is how you decide to recover from it. He is our phoenix - showing us you learn how to fly no matter how much it burns, to get up into the sky again. Because it is all worth it. EVERY last one of them - C, C, C, L, K, S, R, C, D, G - each of these kids are loved deeply and fiercely - including the ones who didn't make it here on earth with us. Hopefully they know how much they are loved. And hopefully, six years later my brother would be proud of me and C would be proud of his dad and all that we do and put out into this world we intentionally create for them.