Sometime during the night, it stopped snowing. It was wonderful while it lasted. There is almost as much snow on the ground as there was after the blizzard of ’96, our first winter in the United States.
I wrote about it a while back, that in the woods near our house, the snow was so deep that six year-old Andrew could not walk through it and Hugh had to carry him over his shoulder.
That January, three and half months after Robert’s twin Alexander, had died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome, I was feeling pretty wretched. I thought that there was nothing, nothing that life could ever throw at me that could hurt me after this.
Looking at his rosy cheeks and sweet smile, sitting happily on his father’s shoulder, I could never, ever have imagined that Andrew, beloved child of ours, would one day take his own life. Neither could have I believed that I would remain alive after losing a second child.
When Andrew died, I went through several bouts of not being able to eat, even drinking wasn’t easy. Before I knew it, I lost thirty-nine pounds. At the time I thought that I would never be able to eat again. Just thinking about food would make sick. But not so. Needs must, and last night I had a big cup full of ice-cream with whipped cream! Delicious and disgusting.
That’s the thing with me, when I am hurt my reactions are all the way one way, or all the way the other way, ie:
I either starve, or stuff myself, I love big and I suffer big.
Had I not had Andrew, had I not loved him and had he not loved me back; I would not feel his loss with every fiber of my being.
Yet, I would not trade the nine months that I carried him in my womb. I loved him and he gave me joy from the moment he started growing inside me. Every day of the twenty years and five months that he was with us since taking his first breath, were precious. His smile, his laughter, his wicked sense of humor, his amazing mimicking ability, his generous, compassionate, loving heart; the sense of the ridiculous we shared and much, much more, are worth every agonizing moment without him now.
“I am not afraid of death,” I told my husband the other day. “We have friends in both places,” I said, thinking of Alexander and Andrew there, and our other two children here.
How blessed indeed we are.
PS. The sun is shining. Here and there the snow has started falling off the trees. Little by little the bent over branches are picking themselves up. Their give is what it took them to survive the heavy load.