Gifting Music To Myself

 . . . and for my birthday gift to myself I went to a strings class to learn how to play my cello. My lovely cello that I've had for a year, that DH gave me as a gift so I could engage in music again, because I wasn't able to sing after Caitlin died. But I still didn't have the brain power or confidence to learn anything new. Ah, but, I went today and committed to learning to play my cello. So far, I know how to hold, how to tune, and how play with up and down bow on open A, D, G, and C strings.

Life is good. Looking forward to playing Caitlin's songs someday on cello and discovering another way to make music!


Peace.

Wrestling with A Shadow

It's what we do, wrestle with a shadow. Our first shadow match is death. Death takes our child, and we wrestle it with the hope and intent of bring our baby back to life. It's not a crazy endeavor; it's real. Have you truly listened to the prayers and needs of bereaved parents. They mean it. Whatever it would take to bring their child back to life---they would do. Only they lose the match to Death, but get to know Death and come to know that to be connected to their beloved child, they must embrace Death.

Now after two years my next shadow match is in play. Wrestling with Sadness. Sadness is more aloof and less remorseful for the role she plays in my life. She's not really sure why she's here. After all, "others have more than you, how dare you be sad." And others have learned to "move on," or "understand it's God's plan," and your child is "in a better place," so she's family now.

Death will sit with me and talk about Caitlin and remember with me and recognize that love couldn't but should've saved my daughter. Sadness merely sits on me, weighing me down and wishing to be anywhere but with me. And Sadness has no holds, I can't grab on and wrestle her into submission. She's a sponge and she's soaked my living into her porous purposeless mesh.

Sadness has settled. It's odd, because I've written extensively about my emotions since my daughter's death, and Sadness seemed too small to mention. Sadness was miniscule to do this pain justice. But, Sadness has settled, and she isn't small. She's quite powerful and I don't like her. Not one bit. Sadness is like novacaine; I can't feel anything that I do.

And, I'm pissed about that . . . ah perhaps I've found a hold . . . because if I'm pissed then I'm feeling something. Right?