Amy has lived through more unspeakable sadness than many of us can even begin to imagine.
Her story is unfathomable and overwhelming.
Her story inspires and brings hope.
Her story exemplifies survival and optimism.
To say that she is strong diminishes her. To say that she is brave doesn’t begin to cover it.
Amy is a survivor…she is truly remarkable.
Thank you for sharing this small moment with us, Amy. Thank you for continually showing us what it means for life to continue…thank you for showing us how to find joy in the small moments. I am so incredibly grateful to you.
I’m Learning — by Amy
I used to be good at juggling.
Juggling my time and that of my 6 children, that is. The two oldest kids live out of state and 3 of the 4 little ones at home were dealing with health issues. 6 kids demanded that I be an organized, get it done kind of mom. In addition to family life, there was time spent running my sewing business.
I thrived on being busy and like most moms ‘my’ time was had after the kids were in bed. This was time spent sewing, chatting online or cleaning up the house.
When I had all four boys at home, I dreamed of the time when they would all be in school and I would have some free time on my hands. I had even figured it out. David would have started preschool the year Jacob entered fifth grade. Zachary would be in Kindergarten, Jonathan in 3rd. I admit I now feel guilty for looking forward to that day. In my mind it’s turned into a warped – “Be careful what you wish for kind of thing.”
Now that I only have 3 of my sons left at home, it breaks my heart that I have all this time on my hands.
And no desire to push myself doing menial tasks just to fill that time.
Sometimes I catch myself staring off into space. I abruptly come to and wonder where the last hour or so wandered away to. Especially in the afternoons after I’ve gotten Zachary down for his nap and the big boys have yet to arrive home from school. This quiet time around the house paralyzes me, draws me into it’s catatonic embrace and doesn’t let me go.
Night-time is the absolute worst for me. I am a night owl by nature and the time spent after the boys fall asleep has always been my most productive. While I still find myself awake at 1 or 2 in the morning, nothing on my “To Do” list has been crossed off.
Once, I had the drive to pack as much as possible into each and every day.
Now, most days are celebrated by simply making it through.
I’m learning to say that’s okay.
I’m learning to embrace the slowness that only grief can impose. The slowness that makes me more attentive to my boys. Once toys and videos were a means to keep the kids busy while I accomplished another task. Now spending that time with the boys has become the priority.
I’m learning to say that it’s okay that the house isn’t spotless because I chose to hang out with the boys instead.
I’m learning to say that it’s okay if I spend the day in my pj’s just because I need to.
I’m learning to say that there is life after the death of a child.
It’s just not the same life.
And that’s okay.