anger

i do not wake up each day with a feeling of renewed hope. i do not fall asleep with a satisfied smile, or even a sentiment of content that today was a good day. i rise and fall without happiness and people look at me with concern. i avoid eye contact with brian because he looks at me with those big brown sad eyes and is so worried. i've stopped eating dinner, as my grief has developed a body dysmorphic halo. this is a glorious path i'm on.
- posted by Y. @ 8:53 AM

 
happy 2 month birthday

Daddy wanted to tell you that he's so proud of you, that you were fighting a good fight 2 months ago...a lifetime ago. our little everything.
- posted by Y. @ 11:45 PM

 
living with death


memorial day weekend carried its weight in sadness for me. what should have been a weekend of joy and celebration for musubi, ended up being a solemn weekend with family. brian and i stayed up until 3 or 4 in the morning looking at his pictures and picked 24 of them, 1 for each week that he was here with us to rotate through on a digital frame in his room. 48 pictures total, because we converted them to black and white as well. through sheets of tears we carefully went through each one, remembering to breathe when we choked on our grief. a white frame that i had picked up at the alameda antique fair was perfect, set atop the digital frame. when we turn the frame on, it's as if he's alive, reminding us that he's sleeping and that he's ok.

we went to a giants game that weekend. it went to extra innings and all i could do was sit there and stare at this newborn that was sleeping in his mother's lap across the aisle from us. i was so sad and sat there like a mute fixated on something that wasn't mine. that night I turned the frame on and cried myself asleep on the floor of musubi's room. I got up around 4:16am to go back to my room. it was as if I had to stay with him past 4:14am until he passed before I could go back to my room. both nights that we were up late, I caught the moon shining through our skylight on the way back to my room. the moon is always special because of the book I read to musubi every night.

every night brian reads "the giving tree" to musubi and i read "good night moon" to him. my voice always wavers when i read the last 3 pages. "goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere". musubi was so special, like a single star in this great galaxy and the air reference always breaks my heart because brian once said it reminds him that musubi couldn't get enough oxygen, and the goodnight noises everywhere reminds me of how quiet he was...never a sound from our angel.

of course brain reads the giving tree to musubi and it's just so fitting that that was brian's favorite book. he's always been a big walking heart and it's so hard for me to see him hurt so much. he didn't need any life lesson...he never took anything for granted and he always appreciated the little things. i not only mourn for musubi, but also mourn for the death of brian's innocence. my better half is broken.

lists

i got a few things done on my list. the wedding album is still not done. these lists are endless.

arizona countdown


i clocked in about 18 hours at the spa over the course of 3 days in arizona while brian was at the conference. i sat in each room (steam/dry/inhalation) trying to focus on my breath and quiet my mind, but it was practically impossible. all i tried to do was count to 24 and count backwards down to 0, and i couldn't do it. i finished reading a few more books related to grief and completely agree that catastrophic loss is like an amputation. the results are permanent, the impact incalculable and the consequences cumulative. what makes loss so catastrophic is its devastating, cumulative, and irreversible nature. i couldn't have said it better.

dear musubi

mommy had to find new flowers for you today. the white roses that have been blooming over the past few weeks have past and i found the perfect flowers for you. they are baby's breath. white, and tiny just like you...with lots of breath for you.... i will need your strength. mommy has to go back to work tomorrow and doesn't know how she'll handle things. hopefully with a fraction of your courage and grace. but i can't seem to stop crying. i read a poem this weekend that maybe you were hoping that i would come across.

HE IS GONE
You can shed tears that he is gone
Or you can smile because he has lived

You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back
Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left

Your heart can be empty because you can't see him
Or you can be full of the love that you shared

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday

You can remember him and only that he is gone
Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on

You can cry and close your mind, be empty
and turn your back Or you can do what he would
want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on
--David Harkins, 1981


musubi - you are an eternal moment happening inside me. mommy misses you so much. it's time for me to read you good night moon.
- posted by Y. @ 10:17 PM

 
empty musubi sac (e.m.s.)

it's been awhile and this weekend was as sad as i had anticipated.
- posted by Y. @ 10:18 AM