4 Years and 3 Months (OBX vacation) - June 18, 2013

A couple of weeks ago, we went on a vacation to the Outerbanks, NC.  In years past, this beach mecca was a favorite destination during spring break.  We teamed up with other families and rented big homes on the beach - Josh loved it.

This year, three generations filled our large oceanfront house, from my brother's inquisitive, energetic 19-month old baby to my parents - still going strong at 77 and 83 years old.

It is our 5th summer without Josh and it is during family vacations that his absence is acutely felt. Gillian remarked that these times are especially hard as this was when she and Josh would spend hours together - talking, joking and laughing.

It hit me hard on our 4th day.  It started on my habitual early morning walk on the beach while listening to Ingrid Michaelson's poignant version of Somewhere Over the Rainbow.  Then I sat down on my sand chair and wrote a list of activities that I could just picture Josh doing:

• boogie-boarding over waves with his cousin, Greyson
• throwing the football around with cousins, Mitch and Lydia
• watching Star Trek in the in-house theatre room
• snoozing on the couch with the dogs
• playing poker
• discussing Dr. Who with Ava
• playing pool with uncle Steve and Greyson
• catching sand crabs
• in the jacuzzi with his sisters
• flirting with baby Keilani

I fell into the grief vortex, wracked with pain and sorrow - the sand crabs undisturbed by my sobs.  Attempts to describe these feelings were scribbled on the blank pages:

It is still painful - feels raw - piercing right to the depths of my heart and soul  - a mother's pain...

• deep

• never ending

• un-explicable

• emotional torture

• lazer sharp, pointed, stabbing pain - making it difficult to breathe

• fueled by guilt, regret, remorse

• a longing for life which will never be fulfilled

• a deep, profound sadness which feels bottomless

• like a boat which enjoyed calm seas and is now pummeled by waves - relentless, furious, uncaring, fierce, brutal, attacking

I was exhausted the next day - spent and drained.  The rest of the vacation passed with the awareness of Josh's absence, translated into a dull ache instead of the acute pain.   We saw dolphins every day which I've always taken as a sign of Josh's presence.  Then on the last day, an unmistakable sign occurred right outside our deck - a huge, beautiful, full rainbow - right on the ocean.  

Josh,

The whole family missed you on this vacation.  Thanks for letting us know you were with us.

RIP
Love,
Mom

My Fibonacci Poems: Gone and Negative Space

Reading and writing poetry is a small but significant part of my Grief Journey.  Poems, via careful choice of words, can house deep, profound thoughts and feelings within a relatively short amount of space.  Since I am not a verbose person nor a prolific writer, this form has suited me - see post of my fledgling attempts.

I have been reading through the posts on last month's National Poetry Month Blog Tour, hosted by Savvy Verse & Wit and came across this post on Fibonacci poems  by Tabatha Yeatts.

In 2006, Gregory K came up with the idea to marry the mathematical Fibonacci sequence and poetry.  "The Fib" is a "six line, 20 syllable poem with a syllable count by line of 1/1/2/3/5/8 – the classic Fibonacci sequence."- see his original post.

My first attempts at the Fib:

Gone
Life
Death
He's gone
by his hand.
Sun and moon have stopped;
irrevocably changed - damn Death!

Negative Space
Blank
Void
Empty
Negative
space in my red heart,
un-fillable except by him.