kids are the answer to our sorrows

for some reason, the past week has been hell.
actually since his birthday last month, the grief train took a downward turn again (as in .. you know .. it goes up and down like a roller coaster. man, i'm tired. i'm gonna have to come back to this later to edit the lyrical nonsense i'm spewing right now.)

anyway, on thursday i actually yelled at myself all the way as i was driving to work. i was crying again, missing him so much .. and it just pissed me off. "STOP f---ing crying already. STOP!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs as I shot down the highway. "There is no freakin' point in crying! No point! What is the point?! Stop feeling sorry for yourself! YOUR LIFE IS GOOD. People all over this world have way worse to suffer. SHUT UP already!" ... For some reason, that made me break down even more. As if the realization of this made me feel even worse. Or maybe I cried more because I realized that none of these facts helped in my recovery from this pain.

But, today, I came to the conclusion that there are things that assuage my suffering. At least, it is a theory, for I feel balanced and alright today. Maybe it was just my hormonal state last week (remember my hormone balance - grief relation theory?) .. but, I think, what was balm to my soul this weekend was having J's mother over for two evenings (Thu, Fri), and then seeing his daughter on Saturday. She turned 8 years old and the celebration was a small get-together in the park with his ex-wife (who remarried and is pregnant again), her best friend and family, as well as J's mom and one of his sisters, plus the kids.

It was a lovely afternoon but most joy I experienced by just watching his daughter smile, laugh, and play. She is such a sweet kid, so much heart, so smart, so considerate, and just such a shining soul. And through her, I also saw him shine. That is a little piece of him right there. And so is his ex-wife, .. his high school sweetheart. She doesn't like to talk to me about it but, I know, she loved him deeply and this must have been a great loss for her, too - despite the fact that their marriage ended almost seven years earlier. So, when I see her, I also see a piece of J. A piece of his love is with her and that means she brings a little tranquility to me, as well. As much as she may despise me at times (I don't know if she does, but I have a hunch that maybe sometimes she does. We knew each other while J and she were married and, although, J and I came together after they split up, she may have suspicions of earlier activities. It's only natural. It's the doubt in our heads. Life's bad experiences. I don't know.) ... But when I see her, I have love for her because she is being a wonderful mother to that kid of J's. And she could shut me and my kids out completely, but she makes an effort not to. And that's big of her.

I love that child like my own because I loved J. She was only a baby when our patchwork family began to sprout. It's really amazing what can become of a family that's split apart if all involved parties are open to different reconnections. It can become a beautiful tapestry of people, diplomacy, forgiveness, and love - and the recipients of this love, tolerance, and connection are all the children involved. My kids may be children of divorce but they have seen only cooperation, helpfulness, and good-will from me (that's not to say that I haven't had plenty of moments of frustration or anger about their Dad, but I have kept them hidden from the girls). I have never spoken badly about him, nor have I insisted that they can't call their new step-siblings 'brothers and sisters' or their Dad's girlfriend 'stepmom', even though all that took time to get used to. I had nothing but support for the fact that their Dad, last year, announced he had another child [from a few excursions during the months of finalizing our separation]. It wasn't easy - because I'm a narrow-minded adult now - but, at least, I was able to remind myself that, to the kids, this was just another little sister (yeih!).

Life is about love. It's true. And while I may have lost my romantic love - that man, who I would have died for - I still have plenty of love all around me and I try - very hard - to focus on that, remember it, and appreciate it. And maybe - one day - this pain will be nothing but a memory. A scar. A thought about light, passion, and love. A sliver of hope for a reunion one day, when it is my time to go.