Letting Go

I'm returning to work tomorrow. I'm letting go of this bubble I've lived in for the past 10 weeks, where my main occupation was grieving. I'm letting go of a life disrupted, of the innocent person I was the last time I walked out of school, headed to that ultrasound appointment that changed my life forever. I'm letting go of that moment, and as sad and desperate as that moment feels, it's hard to leave it in the past. But it's a relief to do that, too.

We had Peter's welcoming celebration on Sunday, and it was even more beautiful than we'd expected. Daithi and I, as his god parents, read pieces we'd written for Peter. Some of Dee's family read poems and Eric and Dee's brother played music. Kusi shared a beautiful poem by Sheelagh Pugh that seemed to capture so much of the feeling that day. Everyone there felt touched by the poem, but I found special meaning in it. It also made me think of my two good friends who found out in the past week that they're expecting babies. Both of these women have lost babies before, and they know the fear and courage it takes to try again. I'm not at that point yet, but the hope that I see in them, and in this poem, helps me believe I will be, sometime.

Sometimes

Sometimes things don’t go, after all,
from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don’t fail.
Sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war,
elect an honest man, decide they care
enough, that they can’t leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best intentions do not go
amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen; may it happen for you.