It's been a while since I wrote a post out of the blue. This one has been whirling in my mind for weeks, maybe even months. Lately, I've been lost in my own thoughts, thinking about Preston. I always miss him, but lately I've been especially aware of that missing piece of me that flew to heaven so many years ago.
I'm not sure why he's been so top of mind recently. It's not as though a day goes by where I don't think of him. Preston is part of our daily lives. We mention his name every night when we say a blessing before dinner.
Maybe it's that Samantha has mentioned him a lot in the past few months. About missing out on having a sibling, her older brother. Even though she never met him, she shares a deep connection with him and loves him dearly. And that's where my heart breaks all over again. Not just for me, but for her. Seeing her cry over him tears me apart. Absolutely apart.
However, I don't want this to be a depressing post. In times of reflection, I often turn to music and I came upon a song I didn't know... you know me and lyrics. In the past 8 months or so, I've met some wonderful people. And like everyone, I know some of them carry their own struggles. I have mine too, even if I often keep them tucked deep inside. Recently, I opened up and shared Preston with a few of them, and this post just feels like something I should put out there for anyone that's facing their own something. With a lot of them in mind.
The song is Iridescent by Linkin Park, from 2010; one I'd somehow never heard before, which is surprising given how much I listen to their music. The first time I heard it, it hit me like a Mack truck. It felt like someone had put into words every single feeling I had 11+ years ago, when everything was still so raw. It took me back. In a good way, but also in a way that really hurt. A beautiful kind of ache. I listened again and again and again, letting it wash over me. That's what I do. Music can be so incredibly healing to me. Maybe it will be for you too.. Give it a listen, let it soak in and if you care to, see what it meant for me.
"When you were standing in the wake of devastation
When you were waiting on the edge of the unknown
And with the cataclysm raining down, insides crying, "Save me now"
You were there, impossibly alone"
I cannot think of better words to describe how I felt when everything first happened. Quite frankly, I was in such a fog that I probably couldn't. And even though I was surrounded by loved ones, and I'm oh so thankful for them all - I often still felt completely and utterly alone.
While the grief may have been swallowing me whole, I had to keep breathing.. I knew it was what Preston would want for his Mama. Somehow, that was enough to keep me moving. And with perspective, I'm able to realize that I wasn't as alone as I thought. I was being carried, piece by piece, by love. His. Mine. By others going through similar pain... And even now, by those around me, many of whom are carrying their own something.
"Do you feel cold and lost in desperation?
You build up hope, but failure's all you've known
Remember all the sadness and frustration
And let it go, let it go"
I relate so deeply to the chorus. The numbness created by grief was stiflingly agonizing and isolating. With my own body failing me over and over again, whether with Crohn's or preeclampsia or with placental insufficiency, the struggle was no joke. So many tears, so many internal disparaging comments to myself about not being enough for my own children.
Yet, I somehow was able to overcome the pain, the self inflicted guilt, and the frustration of my body doing the opposite of what I needed from it. Most of my strength comes from Preston. And my support system. But I should give myself more credit. It was by letting go of what was out of my control that I was able to see the light. The hope. What a gift to the world my little boy was. I've likely said it in this blog a bunch of times - control what you can. It can be a freeing feeling to slowly drop one of the many stones that you carry with you everywhere you go. Perhaps that's one of Preston's gifts to me - a reminder to keep putting down the stones I can't carry, so that I can hold onto what really matters. Love, hope, and the light he left behind that still shines iridescently.
"And in a burst of light that blinded every angel
As if the sky had blown the heavens into stars
You felt the gravity of tempered grace falling into empty space
No one there to catch you in their arms"
For me, this verse again echoes a lot of what I expressed earlier. The loss was so disorienting, all my hopes and dreams fragmented into dust. It was easy to feel the weight of the loss pulling me into darkness where it felt like no one could catch me.
And yet, with time and a lot of internalizing, I've come to see that I was held up all along. By grace, patience, love and that same brightness Preston left behind - like a beautifully hand-painted summer starry night.
All this to say - whatever the gravity of what you are dealing with is. However alone you may feel. To quote a friend, if you are heading toward darkness and just keep going toward more darkness. Know this - you. are. not. alone. If anything - you have Preston, shining his beautiful soul upon you. You have me, who will also listen and lift you up. And, you may not know it - but you have so much more than that. <3
