I have tried to write this entry at least 5 times. I haven't been able to do it. Friday December 4th was the saddest day of my life this far. My grandchildren Tiana and Andrew III were born far too early and were gone in an instant. I was there for the miracle of their birth, to see them and hold them. To see my first grandson, to see how much my second granddaughter looked just like her sister. To hold my first born son as he grieved for his children. To comfort my daughter in law for her unimaginable loss. To lean on my husband when I thought the grief would overwhelm me.
I have experienced so much loss over the last year or so. I have had some incredibly sad days, but this is nothing I have ever experienced. The sadness comes on like a sneaker wave; I have to fight not to be completely overtaken. It has no warning, no trigger, it just is. Like air. Everywhere but nowhere. The tears seem to never dry. Always perched precariously at the edge of my eyes, waiting for the slightest provocation to fall., seemingly connected to the empty feeling in the center of my heart that only God will be able to fill for me now.
I thank God that I have some faith, because if I didn't I could not do it. If my husband and my arms will always ache for the grandchildren we lost, how more must their mother and father feel for the longing to nurture their babies? How must their father, my child feel for the loss of his babies? Their sister, who knew she had little brother and sister twins? I grieve not only for me, but for them. That is what mothers and grandmothers do I suppose.
It has been 8 days now. I would like to say it has gotten better. I would love to say that don't feel sad. It is the holiday season. I am trying to see the beauty, remember the reason for this season, not only the holiday season but this season in my life. This too shall pass, but while I am in it I pray for the wisdom too glean what I need to out of the darkness, and look forward to the emergence to light that will eventually come. They were only in our lives physically for less than 24 hours, but they will live in our hearts and memories forever. We will see them again.