Sunday, August 15, 2010


If life were a movie, it would have been the scene following a cataclysmic event the night before. The morning blurred by a deep fog which hugged the ocean, obscured the tops of buildings, and made anything moving or colorful a surprise, veiled until the moment you were upon it.

But life is not a movie and there was no catacylsm the night before...just some quiet stolen moments on a morning walk with my living son, who woke too early in a beach house filled with sleeping family members.

But it got me thinking about life...after. Ezra's second birthday is just weeks away. This month, August, my season of grief, I keep waiting for the cataclysm. Waiting to feel drawn back into the depths of grief that I experienced in the weeks leading up to Ezra's first birthday. Waiting to be reduced daily to a puddle of tears. Expecting a torrent of rage or deep despair. And while I still may end up there, its not where I see myself going this grief season.

The reason is this: every day now is a day after. Every day is a day without my son Ezra.

The sadness has settled into my bones, it is part of my everyday. Ezra is in my thoughts and heart daily. I continue to parent my lost son as I parent my living one. I push giggling Micah on a swing at the playground, taking note of the empty motionless swing next to him...wondering what it would be like to be pushing two boys on swings. I mentally cringe when I meet two year olds, calculating in my head the possibilities (would he have been that tall? would he be as articulate?). I feel deep stabs of jealousy as I watch siblings who are close in age interact, particularly when it is two boys. I treasure my "new mom" friendships with mamas of babes close in age to Micah...and yet can't help but wonder about the new mamas who should have been my friends had Ezra lived.

It is true I have refound joy. And yet the sadness is ever present. The sadness is every day...after.


Sophie said...

This resonates with me so much. The dates, or month becomes more symbolic I guess but in terms of pain and grief it really is just another day without them.


Carly Marie said...

Love you Sarah :)

Michele said...

You hit the nail on the head. "It is true I have refound joy. And yet the sadness is ever present. The sadness is every day...after."

Sara said...

I think one of the hard things is that the refound joy is visible to the world, but the sadness in your bones isn't. Sometimes you need that sadness acknowledged; sometimes it still seeps out.

Thinking of you

TracyOC said...

Well said, Sarah.

Barbara said...



CLC said...

Well put. XOXO.

Ya Chun said...

I feel it in my bones everyday too.


Monique said...

It's always there and he will always be remembered. xoxo

aliza said...

i can really relate to this post sarah. the sadness has settled in my bones too.
it is also hard for me to see two year olds and brothers. i'm here with you. noticing the empty swing and thinking about the son we never got to know.

Paige said...

Love you, friend, and remembering Ezra always.

Hope's Mama said...

So true. Sad. But so very, very true.
Love you, Sarah. Love Micah. Love Ezra.
Missing him with you this month.

Lani said...

been thinking of you a lot lately sarah and just wanted you to know that. sending all my love to you as I remember your little ezra as well as all of our little babies we never got to know. xo