Well, I’m not quite sure where to begin except to say thank you to all of you who continue to visit and comment on my blog. My last post was before Christmas and the days since then have been filled with longing, bursts of energy, sorrow, and glimpses of hope. My parents came for Christmas as they have almost every year since Merrick was a baby. Their time here was brief, but anchored the holidays for Mark, the kids and I. They were a constant that we needed as we navigated our way through shopping, gift opening and Christmas dinner without Jordan.
The days after Christmas were spent watching, helping and encouraging Merrick as he plowed through college applications. Watching his focus and determination as he wrote about his goals and dreams, and the influence Jordan was and continues to be made me proud and weary at the same time. Merrick will be ready to go to college next year if he chooses. I wonder if I’ll ever feel right about giving the world another one of my children? At the end of each day after reading drafts of his essay and offering comments I went to bed early needing the day to be over and wept. Jordan where are you, crossed my mind every night.
Mark and I took down the Christmas tree on January 2nd. As he stood by the tree handing me ornaments to put back in storage he said, “We did it.” I nodded knowing immediately what he meant. We made it through another holiday season, watching another year pass and trying to figure how to welcome in a new year. But he was right, we did it. We continue to live a day at a time. We toasted with champagne and sparkling cider at midnight and I said as I have every year starting in 2008, “Jordan we love you, stay with us.” And he has made his presence known. One morning during the kids’ break I woke up smiling realizing I’d dreamed of hugging Jordan. Merrick told me just yesterday that he dreamed of Jordan the night before. He said in his dream he walked downstairs and Jordan was sitting on the couch reading a book. When Jordan saw Merrick he looked up at him and gave him his, “What’s up,” nod. Lindsay came home from school yesterday excitedly telling me,”I got Jordan’s book in Language Arts.” A boy sitting at her table had the book Jordan used when he was in 6th grade. When Lindsay saw it she asked if they could trade. He asked, “Why?” Her reply, “It was my brother’s book,” and with a shrug he handed it to her. She was so happy to write her name on the same page as her brother. It doesn’t feel like coincidence that of the 100’s of 6th graders, Jordan’s book would be at his sister’s table.
Relief mixed with longing are the emotions I feel as January continues. During the holidays Jordan’s absence was glaring. Being able to catch my breath and not feel so guarded against pain has been a struggle but I’m learning it is a part of the meandering path of grief. My days are starting to regain a rhythm that isn’t measured by so many tears. We keep going.