The Carousel

Hello Darling,

It's been a busy weekend!  This week marked your great grandparent's 55th wedding anniversary, Grami and Papaw's 35th wedding anniversary, and Grami's birthday. Today we celebrated by having lunch together.

It is crazy to think that Fall is already here. Next Saturday, JMU football season begins. For the last few years, Daddy and I have gotten season tickets. Last year and again this year, we have seats on the front row, 50-yard line to cheer on the Dukes. I know that we'll have a good time, but this season will be bittersweet. We had expected you to be joining us. There are several JMU outfits in your dresser, and Grami made a special purple and gold tailgating basket for you that she gave me at my baby shower.

I hope the fact that I'm expecting to feel a little sad at the first game will help me better prepare for it. I usually do better on the days that I know will be hard than on the days that I'm not expecting it. There is a line in a book from one of my favorite authors that says, "It is the things you cannot see coming that are strong enough to kill you (Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper)." I think there is some truth to that statement. Last week, we went with family to the county fair. As I was standing next to Aunt Becca and Abigail waiting in line for Abigail's very first carousel ride, it occurred to me that I would never get to take you on the carousel. I had to walk away for a few minutes as the tears fell. Daddy walked with me, gave me a hug, and told me he knew how much it hurt. Luckily, I pulled myself together in time to make it back and wave to Abigail as she went around and around.

I just remembered a song about a child growing up that talks about both the seasons and carousels:

"And the seasons, they go round and round.
And the painted ponies go up and down.
We're captive on the carousel of time...
We can't return, we can only look behind from where we came.
And go round and round and round in the circle game." (Joni Mitchell, The Circle Game)

Grief feels like it's own merry-go-round sometimes with all its ups and downs and spinning. When that thought popped into my head, I googled "grief and carousel", curious to know if anyone else has ever thought the same thing. I came across a post from a blogger grieving the death of her husband a few years ago who said that to her grief felt more like a crazy carousel than a series of stages. She wrote, "If your path has let you off the carousel and you are on a gentle swing - I am glad for you. When I get off, it only seems to be for a little while. Then the ride pulls me pack on."

Unlike the ride at the fair, I guess we never know how long our ride on the grief carousel will last. But what I do know is that it helps to have so many kind and loving people waving to me as I go around and around.

Love,

Mommy