Happy 4th Birthday To My Babies
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"There is no grief like the grief that does not speak." - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I rarely find myself at a "loss for words." I can talk. I talk too much actually. And when I struggle to find the right word, I will just continue talking and using the wrong words until I find the right one. Friends and family are too kind to say so but... I know it's annoying.
But on occasion, there are emotions and thoughts that I cannot possibly communicate in a conversation. No matter how much I need to in order to heal, I just cannot find words that could accurately convey the things I am feeling inside.
And that is when I turn to this blog.
And today is one of those times.
You see, this Monday March 27th my babies Graham and Savannah would have been turning 4. No longer "babies" they would be running around, talking, playing with friends (maybe each other?), coming home from school with paintings they made, cards they made that said "Happy Fathers Day" and "I love you Daddy".
We would have 4 years of memories, and tens of thousands of pictures on our phones and hanging in frames on the wall. We would have nicknames for them as we watched their personalities evolve and despite being twins, recognizing their individual unique natures.
4 years of hugs and kisses.
4 years of love that can only have been felt and shared with them and no one else.
Instead, it has been 4 years of pain, suffering, sadness and depression.
Every joy, every smile, every happy moment clouded with the knowledge that they are not here. That they were taken from us too soon. That we never got to look them in their eyes and tell them how much we love them and need them.
People who have never experienced loss (thankfully) struggle to understand this type of pain. The pain of a life you had, and then tragically having it ripped away. You can move forward, you can live and smile again but you will always - ALWAYS - be in pain. It never goes away. It never lets you get too far ahead without dragging you back.
This Monday will be one of those times my wife and I get pulled back down by the pain monster. Our minds will be flooded with everything we lost.
Most likely you (the reader) cant grasp that concept. How could we have lost so much when they died in childbirth?
But that is exactly the point. We have no memories to look back on. No fun times on vacation to reminisce about. No pictures of them dressed in Halloween costumes or on Christmas Day around the tree opening gifts. We lost everything when they died. Every chance at the life we had planned. Every dream we envisioned. Gone. Forever.
I am someone who believes in remaining positive and controlling your attitude towards any situation. If Viktor Frankl can find strength and meaning in the middle of a concentration camp, what excuse do I have?
I know this to be true but I also know I am human and I am weak. And now is one of those times when I feel weak and quite frankly, it feels therapeutic to just be... sad.
I wont stay here long but on this Monday, I will be ok just being sad. Missing my babies and wishing I had them here with me and my wife to celebrate their 4th birthday. I might get angry. Might have some choice words for God during my prayers... but I will continue moving forward.
And when it is all said and done, I will remember how lucky I am to have known the love that only Graham and Savannah could have brought into my world. I will remember how lucky I am to have Thea and Halston. I will remember how grateful I am for the countless blessings that surround my life. I will thank God that I woke up this morning. I will throw myself into my job that I love and continue to work to provide for my family. I will strive to be a better husband and a better father because my wife and kids deserve the best. I am not nor will I ever be a victim of circumstance because I do not believe that exists. I choose how I live and how I feel and how I go through life. No one and nothing else.
But not this Monday.
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