Tomorrow will mark three weeks since Oliver's death. I haven't been able to write, except for his eulogy. I have feared writing would open up a gaping wound and bring emotions to the surface which I feel I am much too ill equipped to handle. However trying to stymie my pain is proving to be difficult.

Shock dominated the first week. Along with a hyper focus on preparing for Oliver's funeral. We attended church and Ollie's absence was pronounced. His space was empty and I couldn't find my way.

The holidays are complicating grief - people are festive, friends are traveling, there is a busyness to the Christmas season. We are grateful for friends who invited us to join them for Christmas Eve dinner and Christmas Day lunch.

Oliver is missed. Deeply missed.

The shock is slowly wearing off. The tears are beginning to fall. A friend who has been through her own loss of a son said it is like a thawing of a heart which was frozen to cope with sorrow. I found the poem below which beautifully expresses that image.

Ice Storm
by Robert Hayden

Unable to sleep, or pray, I stand
by the window looking out
at moonstruck trees a December storm
has bowed with ice.

Maple and mounting ash bend
under its glassy weight,
their cracked branches falling upon
the frozen snow.

The trees themselves, as in winters past,
will survive their burdening,
brown thrive. And am I less to You,
my God, than they?

Please continue to keep us in your thoughts and prayers as we begin to navigate life without both Oliver & Waverly. We didn't realize what a comfort Oliver was after Wavey died. Now that we are without both of them, we feel quite lost.


Unknown said…
Always thinking of you, amazed you had the strength to produce a blog post for us to see but so thankful you did. Some days I feel like I am on fire for my kids but the frozen heart resonates more lately as they get older. Thank you for sharing.
Anonymous said…
I keep coming back to your blog, wanting to write you something, but not knowing what.
I’ve been thinking about you and Matt a lot, and my heart aches for the two of you and your families. I wish I knew what to say, but all I can do is pray for you to feel better every day and for you, to some day, find laughter and happiness again.
Thinking of you and praying for you, all the way from Switzerland
Anonymous said…
Thinking about you in this difficult time.
Anonymous said…
I am so very sorry for your loss. I am thinking of you and praying for your family.
Anonymous said…
Thank you for your sweet honesty. I am praying for you.
Anonymous said…
I don't know what to say other than I am so deeply sorry for your losses. I have been praying for you all for years and will continue to as you carry the grief and find a new normal.

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