It’s Saturday morning. My kids are older now. They sleep in until 7, and then get themselves up. They’re allowed to watch shows on the weekend, so when I come downstairs at 8, they’ve already had breakfast. Usually, it’s pretty quiet.
Life has come so far from where it’s been in the past – the eternal exhaustion and frustration.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I just yelled at Ryder to “Please, shut up!” (the please makes it okay?) because he was just shouting, “Be boo baba. Bo ba beba? Boo ba bebo baba?” over and over and over again, and eventually that shit has to stop, right?
So I sit down with my coffee (decaf, one stevia, one tablespoon of butter, and heavy whipping cream) and I open my laptop to write. It’s been almost a week since I last wrote anything… and BLANK. Nothing. There is nothing to write about. How do I have nothing to write about? HOW did I used to do this every three or four days – for YEARS?
Life is different now. The struggles are different. The challenges don’t look the same – and to be quite honest, I just can’t seem to find the things to be frustrated about. I’m not trying to portray things inaccurately, either. There are still plenty of things to be frustrated about in my life. My kids still eat on the couch without permission. They still bicker and fight. Brock still never takes the trash out unless I ask him. We have to sweep hardwood floors FAR MORE than I ever imagined possible in order for them to feel tidy… the difference isn’t the lack of frustrations.
The difference is the eyes through which I view them. And way back when life was hard and I was frustrated and constantly in darkness – I couldn’t see that. I couldn’t believe that life was always going to be life, and it was my choice to allow it to land more gently. What’s changed, then? How does it become different?
I know it sounds trite, but honestly the biggest difference in my life has come from gratitude. It’s not the regular, run-of-the-mill, ‘yeah yeah, I’m glad my kids are healthy’ gratitude, though. It’s a deep, abiding, earth shaking gratitude. And it’s not easy to access. Truly, I don’t think we get there without some type of push.
I’m not just thankful for my family, for my husband and kids (although I am.) I’m not JUST thankful for my friends and followers and support, (although I am!) I’m not just thankful for my home and my health and my passion (although I most definitely am.)
I also have deep gratitude for the things that are harder to love.
It seems like maybe it should be impossible, or undesirable, or even just plain stupid. It seems like you can’t possibly want to be grateful in this way. Seems like… but, I am. I’m thankful for the hurting. I’m thankful for the lessons. I’m thankful for the pain.
I don’t think it comes quickly or easily, and I don’t think everyone gets here. I am endlessly thankful for Rory’s life – his soul, his spirit, his sweet nature – but I am also filled with abundant gratitude that he died.
Don’t twist this. I am not glad that he died – I can wish for nothing more powerfully than that he were still here, and to not have experienced his death, the grief, and all that followed. But since that isn’t an option – and the ONLY option is this one, where he is gone – I’m choosing gratitude instead. I hate that he’s gone, and I miss him with all of my heart, but the life that I have – the life that I am living – is one filled with magic and wonder and gratitude, and I thank him daily for the path that brought me where I am.
Even though it really, really fucking hurt to get here.
