Facebook memories. I have mentioned before I have a love/hate relationship with them. They give me snapshots of the kids through the years, of a life so full of vibrancy and energy, a life with two of them, not just one. Albeit the love/hate.
At this point, everything I see from 2014, is the last couple of weeks my daughter was alive. Jesse took the girls to the park a lot, almost daily with Bells. The few times Bella was quiet and looked deep in thought, I would ask her, what are you thinking about? She would look hard at me and say hmm, I am thinking about a park, mommy, can we go to a park today. A lot of the memories are from parks, and the one last Friday was no different.
I start my day often with a few minutes of contemplation and intention. I stare at the magical paintings that I have in my room by the artist Steidel from Cannon Beach, OR. The one is a picture we bought after I had a miscarriage. The other was when Bells was born. The varying blue shades with a magical flying ship with a child sleeping on the back called Pony Red, alongside another in shades of blue, a magical flying machine, large balloons keeping it afloat, flying above a river through a forest. It is called: UltimitCHILSflingmachen, which in my mind translated to ultimate child’s flying machine, which considering it was in honor of Bells, fit her personality. It is easy to gaze upon these and let my thoughts circulate through as well as welcoming ideas, and brainstorming on things stirring that need clarification. I then pick up my phone and peruse the news headlines, reading the articles only occasionally. I have to be cautious being so empathic, I can pick up and carry with me emotions, good and bad, and the news is filled with suffering that I would be buried in if I am not careful. Yet, I feel like I need to be informed with all the changing things going on. Then I go to Facebook and see what happened one year, two years, three years ago, etc. The past almost three years are filled with lots of mental health advocacy and education links, alongside lots of Timbers and Thorns games, pictures of Raffi and I, as well as friends and family. Previous than that was my whole family. I am so grateful that I did post, because it gives me those glimpses into a life that feels like a dream sometimes. I come across pictures of Bella often, my heart skipping a beat, a wall of emotion comes crashing in. You might ask, why don’t you turn the notification off? Would you? It is almost like you have to look. I am afraid to miss a glimpse of her sweet, goofy, camera loving, action shots alongside princess poses. Seeing those pictures reminds me she was. Another weird sentence. No, I don’t forget. But my brain sometimes tries to trick me to protect me from the pain of losing my little girl. It almost puts her in the etheric magical existence much like those pictures on my wall. She can’t be gone. But she is. Those pictures alongside the memories are all I have left of her, so I have to look no matter how painful it is.
The pictures that came up last Friday were from Peninsula Park by our house. It was a favorite of the girls, and there are pictures of Bells on a swing being pushed by Raffi, then of the girls both swinging. I had an oil change and a lot to do after, so I ran while they worked on my car. After seeing those pictures that morning, I decided to run to the park and look at the swings. Being early on a weekday, it was empty as I ran up. I felt nothing, absolutely nothing as I looked at the empty swings hanging limply, waiting for life to bring them to life. These times when I feel nothing like that never ceases to amaze me at the protection and survival mechanisms our brains have developed. I have written about disassociation before, and it still weirds me out when it happens. This was one of those times. As I gulped down water and cooled down for a minute, I just stared at them, waiting for my little girl to materialize before my eyes, because, she can’t possibly be dead, right? It is actually my eyes playing tricks on me that she isn’t there…
After the realization that my eyes are indeed not playing tricks, and I remind myself that she is gone, I wait. I wait for feeling, any feeling and it doesn’t come. So I run, hard so that I can feel something, even if it is the pain and fatigue from running hard.
I post a lot now, pictures, check-ins, opinions, etc. Especially of Raffi and I, because I so wish I had more of Bella and I. I want those memories. You remember a lot, but not everything. I want those nudges to my brain to remind me of the beautiful family that I had, even if it is bittersweet. And the memories after they died are just as important, because it reminds me of an inner strength that I sometimes forget I have, those memories after remind me of my will to figure out how to live again, and they will remind me that I did and continue to.
