Memories bring back you

I can hardly believe that it was 26 years since I held my babies, tiny and lifeless. I held them in my drug filled haze for a long time. Thankfully, the nurses gave me the blankets they were wrapped in, as the memory of those hours feels vague–the blankets remind me it was real.

When they asked me if I wanted pain medication to sleep that night, I gratefully accepted. I slept solidly, numb to the pain. Blind to the pain of laboring and birth, the pain of the death of these little boys.

I went home the next day after birthing those babies, with no car seats in the back.

It’s one of the most painful feelings I have ever had–to leave the hospital empty handed, and to drive away without them.

That night I was at home, and I distinctly remember wanting more of those drugs–the drugs that would take the pain away. Wanting to escape for a few hours into the oblivion that obliterated the pain.

I remember feeling like I could understand the pull drug addiction that night to my very core.

26 years later, I do remember the pain–but I also remember the teddy bears, the baby showers, the stroller and the diaper bag. I remember lying in the hospital, listening to their heartbeats and feeling them roll around in my belly.

These last months I’ve been a little addicted to the virtual choirs online. The “being together apart” of a virtual choir is something that quenches some deep thirst inside of me during this pandemic. When I’m stressed or lonely or frustrated or overwhelmed by all things COVID-19, I look for some of my favorite choir or orchestral tunes that have been put together.

To experience people creating beauty together while distant just helps this viral-world feel all right to me in that moment.

I heard this one this week, and the song has been a friend as I face my annual grief:

---

The thought has been with me all week:

From dreams to memories to my silent sons…a sweet journey to which this song invited me

Unique this year as I approach this birthday/death day of my little boys, is the reality that right now it seems like pretty much the whole world grieves. During COVID-19, everyone has lost something:

• Grade 12’s missed the final months of high school, all the pomp and circumstance of high school graduation with a massive room full of people watching them walk across the stage
• Engaged couples choose between eloping, or a wedding with only the closest family and without maids of honor or groomsmen from out of province–or indefinite postponement
• Unprecedented levels of job loss and unemployment–people losing friends and colleagues, regular paychecks and meaningful work they loved
• Loss of businesses long worked and struggled for–and all the dreams that went with owning and running the business
• No daycare, no playdates, no visits from out of town grandparents, unusual visits with in-town grandparents for little children who don’t understand why mom and dad are so stressed
• The inability to attend a funeral or memorial service for a proper goodbye of a neighbor, friend or relative
• No movies, concerts, fairs, seasonal events, sporting events–all the things that are bright spots in a life that can feel dreary for folks
• ____________ (fill in the blank) Everyone has lost something. Everyone has something they have to do without, for now. Everyone has something that is gone, and can’t be delayed or experienced in the future. It’s gone.

This year, I grieve this day amongst everyone else who is also grieving.

We will all get up in the morning, get dressed and go about our day–even as a part of our hearts ache.

We will function. We will feel the pain. And we will survive.

Thanx for being one of the people during this time of collective grief to also be sad. Your pain merges with mine–and together we face it and walk through it.

I don’t feel so alone this year.

---

Here’s to the ones that we got
Cheers to the wish you were here, but you’re not
‘Cause the dreams bring back all the memories
Of everything we’ve been through
Close to the ones here today
Close to the ones that we lost on the way
‘Cause the dreams bring back all the memories
And the memories bring back, memories bring back you
There’s a time that I remember, when I did not know no pain
When I believed in forever, and everything would stay the same
Now my heart feel like December when somebody say your name
‘Cause I can’t reach out to call you, but I know I will one day, yeah
Everybody hurts sometimes
Everybody hurts someday, ayy ayy
But everything will’ be alright
Go and raise your voice and say, ayy
Here’s to the ones that we got
Cheers to the wish you were here, but you’re not
‘Cause the dreams bring back all the memories
Of everything we’ve been through
Close to the ones here today
Close to the ones that we lost on the way
‘Cause the dreams bring back all the memories
And the memories bring back, memories bring back you

Adam Levine, words adapted by the One Voice Children’s choir (bolded lines mine)

Today is family supper: pulled pork on a bun served with side of laughter and interesting stories of catching up with each other. Family supper with people who have also lost–and are here with me now.