Over the last few days, I’ve realized that sometimes it’s the smallest things that are the hardest for me to cope with when it comes to losing Benny. Overall I think I’m doing pretty well, especially when it comes to the big picture. I understand my angel Benny isn’t here anymore and I’m accepting that and trying to move forward. But then something small happens and everything gets turned upside down again in ways I didn’t expect.
I wonder if it gets better in time. I have to imagine it does. But I can’t quite picture that now. There are so many things that remind me of Benny or make me think of him, and unfortunately at this stage of the grieving process it can be really hard. I don’t cry nearly as much as I used to, but the tears are still there and they come out for the most seemingly random reasons. I wanted to capture a few of them here that have affected me over the last few days because I’m hoping that as I do, someday I’ll be able to look back on them and recognize my healing if I can read or see them without such an emotional reaction. Hopefully. Someday.
On Saturday I was doing the weekly deep-cleaning of our home, and with it being the new year, I was trying to get rid of some of the clutter. (Thankfully our home doesn’t have much, but it is always good to do a nice clean sweep.) As I was cleaning our master bathroom shower, I noticed some nearly-empty shampoo and conditioner bottles so I went to throw them away. Then I realized one of them was the shampoo/baby wash we used to use on Benny. We kept it in our shower because we always tubbed him in his little tub in our master bathroom, and sometimes we’d even just throw him in the shower with one of us if he really needed it. (That may seem weird to some, but I’m pretty sure we’re not the only parents to have ever done it.) Anyway, as I threw the baby wash bottle in the trash, I had this twinge of guilt and pain and started to feel the tears come. Goodness – it’s just a nearly empty shampoo bottle. But it was Benny’s shampoo bottle. And throwing it away felt in a weird way like I was throwing away a memory of him. And I never want to do that. Such a random thing, but it really hurt.
This morning Tom and I took our sweet babies to daycare/preschool, and as we were driving there, I remembered that this was supposed to be the day we took Benny to daycare for the first time, too. He would’ve been 7-months-old (tomorrow) and ready to start going with big brother and sister. We love the babies’ teacher and she’s almost become part of the family. We were so excited for Benny to get to know her and her family and for them to get to know Benny, too. We knew he’d bring such joy to their home and preschool, because that’s what he did for us. We loved having him around while we worked from home and even taking him to my office with us a few times. He was the best baby and I knew he’d be the best baby at daycare, too. I was remembering when we reserved his spot thinking how far away seven months felt and that he’d be so big by then. My heart hurt this morning as I thought back on that, having no idea at that point what was to come. This morning definitely brought a few tears as a result.
Then this afternoon, Tom and I were doing some online grocery shopping and noticed that Smith’s is having their annual case-lot sale. We’ve been trying to do better about being intentional and proactive with our food storage, so we have a spreadsheet we use to track what we need, what we have, and what we still need to buy. We worked on it a lot this summer (thank you, quarantine) and today when I opened it to see what we may need to get from Smith’s, I saw the boxes at the top that listed us as a family with three children (so the spreadsheet can calculate how much of things we need) as well as the section on items we needed specifically for Benny (formula, diapers, etc.) and the individual list that we had for his 72-hour kit. Simply seeing those things on the spreadsheet brought me to tears. I didn’t have it in me to change the number of children from three to two to accurately calculate what we need, and in fact, I ended up closing the spreadsheet altogether and canceling my online grocery order because it was all just too much. I know I’ll get back to it (hopefully tomorrow because we’re out of milk and eggs) but today I just couldn’t do it. Again – something so seemingly insignificant, but for me and with this situation, it was more than I could handle.
I’m trying to work through all this in the best way I know how, and one thing I’m recognizing is the need to be patient with myself. I’ll find myself starting to feel sad, but then I feel frustrated for feeling sad, and then I feel guilty for feeling frustrated, but then it’s all just overwhelming and I feel sad again. Goodness, grieving has proven to be such a weird, vicious cycle.
One thing I’m so afraid of is being stuck. I don’t want to be stuck in the sadness of losing Benny – because he especially wouldn’t want that. I never want to forget him, but I also don’t want to be stuck in the pain of losing him. Sometimes I feel like if I’m sad, I’m not progressing and healing and moving forward. I realize it doesn’t sound logical, and often it doesn’t even totally make sense in my own mind. But that’s how I feel. I want to be able to move forward, and if I’m sad, I feel like I’m just getting stuck. But as I’m learning to be patient with myself, I’m starting to see how feeling all these emotions doesn’t have to mean I’m stuck.
It’s okay for me to have moments of sadness. I need to be able to feel the sadness, because if I can’t feel the sadness of losing Benny, I also can’t feel the love of having had him and one day having him again. It’s okay for me to cry sometimes. I need to be able to cry at the little things, because if I don’t cry at the little things, I may miss out on the big things when it comes to healing. It’s okay for me to be on this roller coaster of emotions, feeling joy one minute and then being a puddle of tears the next. It’s okay. No need to compound the sadness by feeling frustrated or guilty for my feelings. They’re simply okay. And when I make them okay, I can actually work through them in healthy, productive ways. Easier said than done, but boy am I sure trying.
I’m not sure what the rest of this healing journey will hold. I’m pretty sure it’s a journey I’ll be on for the rest of my life, because I know there will never be a day when I don’t miss my angel boy. So I need to settle in. I need to recognize that just because I find myself crying over a shampoo bottle, it doesn’t mean I’m not healing. Or just because I have to close a spreadsheet, it doesn’t mean I’m not coping well. Because I am healing. I do feel like I’m coping and moving forward. In the best ways I know how. I’m sure it’s not perfect and there are things I could be doing better, and there are surely people out there dealing with situations like this way better than I am. But I’m trying. I’m waking up every morning determined to do my best. Some days my best is just getting through – it’s cereal for dinner and wearing the same yoga pants I’ve worn for three days straight. Other days my best is doing all the things I want to do – it’s being present with my babies and feeling accomplished at work and even curling my hair. It’s different from one day to the next, but I do feel like the days are getting better. Even on days when the little things set me back, overall things seem to be actually getting better. I’m really grateful for that. Even a little progress is still that – progress. And I’ll take every little bit I can right now. Because the progress helps me see that I’m starting to heal, and that gives me hope. Slowly but surely. I’m actually starting to heal. One day, one hour, and one small minute at a time.