I came around the corner last night and noticed this… To be honest by first reaction was a deep sigh of disappointment. A water glass, spoon, hair clip, channel changer, coin game, and a rock were carelessly layered into his sacred place. Mundane artifacts of everyday living somehow found a way to clutter his memory with ordinariness… How did I let this happen?
I quickly tidied up the space and realigned the block letters. Stepping back to survey my fresh start, I realized I didn’t feel a hint of anger and my sadness hadn’t lingered. In fact, I even laughed softly, as a gentle sense of oddity rose up within me.
He’s our third kiddo after all, I mused silently. Thrown in with all the rest of the crazy and just fighting for his place like everyone else. Instead of arguing with his sisters over cuddles and one-on-one time he’s vying with a water glass and a spoon (don’t ask about the spoon – I really have no idea) for shelf space.
“It is what it is” I mumbled… I never really wanted it to become a shrine anyway. Certainly, I don’t have to prove my love or my loss with the diligent care of an urn empty of soul. Right???
I took one more deep sigh of reflection, I know how I could let his happen… It’s because I’ve slowly stopped looking for Graham in photographs and memorials. In fact, I haven’t been looking for him at all, really. He’s everywhere. And I don’t feel the inclination to prove it or force it – because he just IS – mixed in and present. Always.
Maybe this is what normal could look like for us? A channel changer sitting beside a little boy’s urn? Maybe this is what acceptance looks like?