Grief

I'm grieving. Today I drove behind the life that would have been. I watched as my son's friends laughed and joked around in the back of a car together as their sisters occupied the front seats. One sister driving and the other boy's sister laughing and joking around with the boys. I know them. I know that the girls are Madelyn's age and the boys are Ethan's friends. I momentarily imagine Madelyn with those girls, laughing and talking about boys. I imagine Ethan feeling like his friends and feeling cool for having a big sister. That daydream is halted as they turn in at the front of the school and I drive around to the back where the students with special needs enter the building. I am reminded that my husband and I take turns driving Madelyn to school (alone) and Ethan rides the bus to distance himself from his sister in the the already difficult Middle School atmosphere. Suddenly I am flooded with reminders of all the ways our lives are different from the families of their peers. I begin to grieve athletic events with Madelyn that will never happen. School dances that will not happen and endless other special moments. If my mind conjured these things up in the way that I write it, it would be easier to move through, like shallow water...but my mind shows me what that parallel life looks like as if I am watching a movie. And. It is painful. I am blessed and thankful for my life and for my family. I know I will move through this swampy, sinking, sucking mud and find the dry land that is my life, my home. For now, I struggle and my steps are heavy.