Ebb and flow…
ugh, grief, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll never understand your ways. Truly never understand because I’ve realized I’m not meant to. I realized in the beginning that I must ride your waves, go with the flow. And through this time it’s allowed me to not be ‘stuck’ with you. My waves are no longer as frequent. But as the time as grow in between each hit I’ve noticed each wave has grown in force. My lows can be heart shattering.
The last 24 hours for example. My mix of emotions in regards to ‘back to school’ day led to a full blown meltdown as I went to bed. Sometimes the most selfish of realizations come over me, I’ll never have the chance to post a picture, to send my kid, any kid, to school for the first time, make stupid teacher gifts, yada yada yada. As I tried to get over myself and fall asleep Parker’s blanket of her clothes glowed in the dark. Literally. It glowed, her skeleton shirt, and I payed there and tried to imagine her in it and it wouldn’t come to me. I lost a memory. How dare I? Her mother not remember every single thing about her, but it was gone and my heart broke. And then all I could think about was how many more memories will fade…which of course had me up most of the night.
Fast forward to this morning and I received an amazing email. A testimony of my effect on a family through TPLP with the sweetest p.s…..they added another family member in the last 10 months and named him Parker. Oh, my heart.
Then….then a lovely mom and grandmom came to donate supplies. After we unloaded they decided to get the children out of the car. My heart beamed and sank at the exact same moment. Here was this beautiful, chunky, almost two year old with crazy curls flowing everywhere. I immediately said,
Oh, she looks just like my Parker!
To which the mom agreed. I begged to hold her. Thought it would feel good. And it did, too good. She felt just like my Parker. My arms were full again! I fought back the tears like a champ until this little one made the sweetest, most familiar noises – noises I hadn’t heard since before Parker got her trach – when she had just turned 2. My heart crumbled, slowly lost piece by piece. I could fill my eyes fill up and I mentally tried to collect each piece before I lost it right there in front of these people. We quickly talked technical, diagnosis, procedures, seizures, medications. My comfort zone, my clinical side where I can detach and not cry like a crazy person. I think the grandma could tell I was desperate in holding it together and they excused themselves.
It’s days like these, moments that come crushing down on me, and wise words from family and friends that remind me why I do The Parker Lee Project. And though some believe this mini P visited today because Parker thought I needed it, I’m not so sure. It was so incredibly painful that it’s hard for me to believe that, but maybe….
My ebb and flow. The testimony and all the comments that followed my sharing of the testimony make me think I’m stronger than I feel sometimes. And my heartbreak with this sweet mini P remind me I’m doing it for her, for all these kids. Parker was brought into my life for reason. And if I had to lose her, lose such a giant piece of my heart and soul, at least something good was to come out of it. I found my calling, my purpose, beyond being Parker’s mom. I’m meant to help these families, whether through support, through these crazy blogs/posts, through helping them sleep peaceful knowing their child has the medical supplies and equipment they need.