You Don't Get Over Love

Mother Henna's website pointed me in the direction of this video, and it is so powerful for those of us in the land of the babylost, whether we are parents or caring friends and family. "You don't get over love."

No. You don't.

Perhaps They are Not Stars

Perhaps they are not stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy.

      - Eskimo Proverb

Kreativ Blogger Award

Something Kreativ

Monica from Still Hopeful tagged me a few weeks back for the Kreativ Blogger Award, because of my love of poetry. I love Monica and wish I lived near her, in part so I could indulge in some of the wonderful goodies she creates and bakes--I keep hinting she needs to open a bakery. Thanks, Monica!


Here are the rules.

1. When given the award, you write about seven things that you love.

2. Pass the award to bloggers that you love, and be sure to tag them and let them know they've won.


So, here goes, 7 things I love:

1. My husband. I don't always know how or why he puts up with me, but he does, and after nearly 13 years of putting up with me, I know I'm a lucky, lucky girl.

2. My kids. They can make me crazier than anyone or anything else in the world, but in return, that's just how much I love them.

3. Coffeeshops (not the Starbucks variety) and nonfat vanilla lattes. There's a great coffeeshop near my house, independently owned, that I just love going to when the kids are in school and I have a few hours to myself to write and work. I'm missing going there during this summer vacation.

4. Traveling. We are planning a trip to England to visit my husband's family and hubby and I are going to Venice for a few days while we're there, for an early celebration of my 40th birthday.

5. Books. With two degrees in English, what would you expect? I don't have nearly enough time to read, and the pile of books by my bed and on my "to read" list numbers in the hundreds.

6. Gardening. I'm not very good at it, but I love to putter around and get my hands dirty. I love watching my plantings grow, I love picking out new flowers to plant in the ground.

7. And, since this is why Monica nominated me, I couldn't neglect to say: poetry.

So, I will leave you with this, from William Wordsworth:

Splendour in the Grass

What though the radiance
which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass,
of glory in the flower,
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

I tag: Concrete & Honey because of her gorgeous photos, and Holly at Decor8 - her blog is just gorgeous. I'm sure there must be others, but I'll have to add more later.

What Will Matter in the End

I was at a women's retreat a few months ago, enjoying a lovely weekend close to home (no overnight, unfortunately, but that's ok) with good people, doing fun and insightful things. One of the retreat leaders recommended a book by Elizabeth Lesser, Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow.

Now, I've been through some difficult times, so I was intrigued by what this woman might have to say to a deadbabymama like me. Could she really have any insight into what life's truly shitty stuff does to a person? Could she have any clue how to go on living your life after you've lost the best thing in the world? (Do you detect cynicism on my part? Hmm.)

I was a bit afraid the book would be very touchy-feely, New Age flaky. Not so. After reserving the book from the library and enduring a long wait for it, I brought it home, read it, and went out and bought a copy. I want to read it again, and I also want to share pieces of it with you. I know this book isn't for everyone, and it's certainly not geared to deadbabymamas, it's simply geared to anyone who has lost and wants to go on after, to learn what they can and maybe even (and I hesitate to write this, but I can't think of another way to phrase it) be better for it.

In one passage, she writes about Sept. 11, and gathering with friends for a dinner shortly after. Everyone at the table was full of different emotions and thoughts about America, war, and terrorism, arguing about then-President Bush and politics. Trying to find compassion for the world, no matter politics or religion, Elizabeth sits at the table crying, as their waitress comes over to tell them that she worked in the World Trade Center, and lost 50 friends that day. "The only thing you should be talking about tonight is how precious your life is," she tells them. "How lucky you are to be alive."

Later, driving home, Elizabeth writes, "I found my thoughts returning to the people on the airplanes, and to that moment when they realized they were speeding through space toward their death. I let my grip on life loosen, until I was with those people, sharing the awe, finally understanding the secret--the same secret we will all know when death is just a breath away: In the end, what will matter is how much we loved--our children, our mates, our families, our friends, everyone we know, everyone who traveled with us during our brief visit to this unbearably lovely place. What will matter is the good we did, not the good we expected others to do."

I'm trying to absorb those words in my days of fear: fear of my own death, fear of my children or husband dying, fear of some catastrophe. I fear so much, and at times it keeps me from truly living my life. And life is too short to let it be ruled by fear. So today, right now, I will love what I have, love this life.

And every day, I will keep waking up, opening up my arms to embrace whatever lies before me, and love.

All That We Let In

I'm a huge fan of the Indigo Girls, who are, for those of you who don't know, a kind of folk-y girl duo, very acoustic and with absolutely amazing lyrics. My sister introduced them to me many years ago, just before I headed off to college, and I've been incredibly grateful ever since. Their songs have saved me so many times, in so many different ways: through heartache, confusion, depression, and so much more. I haven't been listening to much music for far too long now - so many days spent listening to The Wiggles, or Hannah Montana, and whatever's on Radio Disney. I miss really listening to good music, with good lyrics, discovering that new amazing group that makes me want to run out and buy everything they've ever done.

With that said, I've just had a lightbulb go off in my head: can anybody tell me some good music I should be listening to, but I'm not? Besides IG, I love U2, Sting, the Police...um, I can't actually think of anyone else. Aimee Mann is good, though a little dark. My musical tastes haven't really moved out of the 90s. Please comment below and tell me who I should be listening to!

Back to the purpose of this post: I was listening to the IG's album "All That We Let In" a few weeks ago and these lyrics, to the song of the same name, struck me:

The dust in our eyes our own boots kicked up
Heartsick we nurse along the way we picked up
You may not see it when it's sticking to your skin
But we're better off for all that we let in

We've lost friends and loved ones much too young
With so much promise and work left undone
When all that guards us is a single center line
And the brutal crossing over when it's time

Well I don't know where it all begins
And I don't know where it all will end
We're better off for all that we let in

One day those toughies will be withered up and bent
The father son, the holy warriors, and the president
With glory days of put up dukes for all the world to see
Beaten into submission in the name of the free

We're in an evolution I have heard it said
Everyone's so busy now, but do we move ahead
Planets hurling, atoms splitting
And a sweater for your love you sit there knitting

You see those crosses on the side of the road
Or tied with ribbons in the median
They make me grateful I can go this mile
Lay me down at night and wake me up again

Kat writes a poem and she sticks it on my truck
We don't believe in war and we don't believe in luck
The birds were calling to her, what were they saying
As the gate blew open and the tops of the trees were swaying

I pass the cemetery, walk my dog down there
I read the names in stone and I say a silent prayer
When I get home you're cooking supper on the stove
And the greatest gift of life is to know love

--Emily Saliers


That kind of sums up how I feel about Ben. I'm better off for having him. I love more, I appreciate more, and though missing him hurts like hell, I would do it all again.