In the early days after our son passed, I had a need to salvage or redeem any and everything I could that I had been looking forward to: The scheduled maternity shoot became a family shoot, the nursery a playroom with as many sentimental reminders as I could coordinate, his bedding a teddy bear. I couldn’t bare losing anything more. The idea of packing up or getting rid of items I had so excitedly and intentionally purchased was nauseating.
I was thankful for a bereavement team that understood I would have this need and began sharing ideas to transform these items I loved even before he was born- even before I knew I would want to change things.
Placing my energy into transforming his belongings helped me grieve and channel this changed relationship. It took my mind from focusing on my loss and death to looking forward to the new. At first, it was a way to restore his room at the end of the hall; to create joy again in our home. But it led to me seeing and thinking of my son in the same way; I haven’t lost him. He is still alive. I’ve just been delayed in meeting him. I have lost the dream of raising him on Earth, which is painful. The transition in my perspective dulled the intensity of the sting. I haven’t lost my son. I am not living the reality I had hoped, but I have hope this isn’t the end. I have been spared pure devastation. To see this as the end is a black hole. Yet, I see this as my son took an earlier flight home and I will catch up soon, which leaves me longing and waiting versus lost and alone. Because of the Great Redeemer, this isn’t over.