“Grief doesn’t change you . . . it reveals you.”
—John Green, The Fault in Our Stars
Since the loss of Knox, I truly believed grief changed people.
When I began grieving, I didn’t feel like myself. And the longer I grieved, the more certain I was the old me was long gone, never to return. But when a dear friend sent me this John Green quote, I have to say that, surprisingly, I agreed: grief reveals you.
It certainly revealed me—the new me. The me that lie dormant, the part of me hidden waiting to spring forth when needed, the part of me I never, ever knew existed.
I have embraced this me. I have finally accepted who I truly am: a wife, a grieving mother of three, a typesetter, a lover of all things vintage, a coffee addict, a music fanatic, a scarf wearer, a catrina/sugar skull enthusiast, and last, but not least, a butterfly aficionado. Through grief, I have discovered these things and I have embraced them. I know who I am, what I want, and I am not afraid to live my life as me.
Before Knox’s stillbirth, I was indecisive and I think I was still searching for myself, but now I’m free. And after two years, I finally feel that my life is clicking into place and I have allowed myself to be happy without Knox in my life. I’m not forgetting about my son or leaving him behind, but life is finally moving forward. I’m no longer standing still.
I’ve made some big changes recently and these decisions have aided me in the moving forward process.
First, my husband and I sold our house, the one that had Knox’s nursery in it. It’s where Knox began to die, it’s where he was supposed to live. And although, the EMDR therapy helped to significantly reduce my emotional stress associated with his room, leaving the house behind was a good decision. I was ready to move forward and that house stood in the way.
Second, I have decided to end my blog. As the time between posts continually lengthens, I find myself putting more energy and efforts into other pursuits and interests. So, I feel good saying this will be my last post, and I am beyond humbled that my words have reached so many bereaved parents and educated others on the painful subject of child loss.
Third, we went to Mexico (my husband and I), specifically to witness the Monarch Butterfly migration in remembrance of our son. These magnificent winged creatures make the long journey every year from Canada to overwinter in the mountains of Mexico; and we saw them. I spent my whole grieving existence for that moment, waiting for wings. It was paradise, millions of beautiful orange butterflies fluttering around me and my husband. With all those butterflies flying about, only one landed on me and it was a male Monarch. I cried and cried and I did not want to leave.
But in a way, it was as though God gave me another chance to say goodbye to my son, and this time it was under better circumstances.