I've started and stopped writing a post here over the past week. I just haven't been able to articulate my feelings. But here goes...
Life is good and amazing and painful all at the same time. We are all along for the ride with Erin. Senior year is going as planned - she likes her classes, homecoming was a blast, the volleyball team is really having fun together. The next step in college applications and planning a few more college visits. It's all really good stuff.
I knew that I'd feel anxious and some sadness about watching Erin go through things for the last time, anticipating that next year at this time, she'll be off on her own and our house will be a little more empty.
What I didn't anticipate is that watching Erin progress through senior year would bring up so many feelings about Shannon. A sneak peek at Erin's senior picture this week was a trigger to wondering what would Shannon have looked like? I've been missing her so acutely lately.
I spent some time the other day updating our foundation website (shameless plug: shannonoharafoundation.org). I added this year's scholarship application and added some upcoming hockey days where the SOF will be there. While I was there, I decided to watch the YouTube video of Shannon. I don't remember the last time I watched it. Damn, she was so little.
I hadn't really articulated to Dan these feelings I've been having, experiencing the loss of Shannon's future as I watch Erin. Dan came home from his week on the road in Michigan and told me he had a customer ask him about the lime green bracelet he was wearing. Dan told him about losing Shannon and the foundation we started and since he was in the middle of showing the customer the online tools he could use, Dan toggled over to the foundation website and played the Shannon video for his customer. On the same day I watched it, Dan watched, too.
I don't pretend to understand how the universe works, but Dan and I were meant to start a dialogue about Shannon this week.
I don't want to take anything away from Erin's senior year or her experience. But I have to acknowledge for myself that it brings up emotions about Shannon. And, it's a reminder that we will experience the loss of Shannon over and over and over in our lives as we watch Erin grow.
For my job, I do a lot of work with podcasts, and that's led me to listening to more and more podcasts when I'm working or walking or driving. I started listening to a new podcast last week - "Terrible, Thanks for Asking". Yes, that's the title. A little dark humor answer to the common question "How are you?"
The host, Nora McInerny, lost her husband, Aaron, to brain cancer. She wrote a blog during the journey and a book after he was gone. Sound familiar? She dives into what grief is, how you can appear normal to the outside world, how you go on and how some days, it's all just too much.
Here's a passage on how she thinks about her grief:
I didn't totally hate it, and I still don't. It's like a bruise I get to push, a pain that reminds me that what I had and what I lost is real. It's the price I paid for loving deeply and for letting myself to be loved. It's the evidence that Aaron was here and that he's really gone.
There's a part of me that's mad to feel like I'm actively grieving again, 6 years later. But, maybe the universe is reminding me that grief is a part of love. It's a way of keeping Shannon in my life. I can be busy and happy and enjoying life and still feel the loss. Happiness and grief aren't mutually exclusive.
So, on we go with this journey called life.
P.S.
Next weekend is the Brains Together for a Cure walk. While we aren't actively participating this year, it's a wonderful organization and I hope, if you have the time, you will support them. For more information, visit: www.brainstogetherforacure.org.
