I was getting supper ready for my bunnies and listening to Vanessa by Grimes when I was hit with a wave of nostalgia for my intense and dark period of grief not long after I lost Henry.
I’m trying to understand it.
It could be that it’s a time when I felt closer to Henry than I do now.
It was autumn. We were waiting to collect Henry’s ashes from Mount Royal cemetery I did nothing but grieve, cry, blog, and think about Henry in those days.
I think about my son every day. That hasn’t changed. Will never change.
The sudden onset of nostalgia took me by surprise.
Why would I have feelings of longing for a time in my life drenched in tears, living in a cocoon, wanting desperately to join my son, and feeling like my life was worthless if I couldn’t hold my baby? (rhetorical question!! please don’t try to understand it or explain it to me. If i dont’ get it, this complex sea of emotions, then you certainly won’t! Thanks!)
It’s a pleasant experience. Remembering being immersed in the shadow of my baby. Even if it’s marred with sharp grief on the jagged cliffs of pregnancy loss. Maybe this is the part of the grieving process I was told would turn to bittersweet.