The funny
thing about grief is it’s not so funny.
Nineteen years
ago today, on a cold winters day, in the freezing air of an operating room, I became
a mother.
The doctor
held up a screaming red baby, my baby, and told me with a smile we had a
daughter. The little girl I’d always dreamed of.
We named her
Savannah Beverley, and in that moment, I knew I was the luckiest mum alive.
Fast forward
to today--today is Savannah’s 19th birthday. But she’s not here.
I haven’t
seen her sweet smile or almost violet blue eyes since she was four and a half.
Today, like every birthday, it seems grief is my nemesis.
Every year I
watch the date creep up on the calendar. When I book in appointments or see advertisements
on tv. Its one of the only days of the year I know my nemesis awaits. But every
year I am optimistic. “Maybe I’ll be okay this year,” “Maybe the tears won’t arrive.”
Its confusing
and exhausting to have to wonder and worry how I’ll feel on her day as I don’t
like being sad.
Who likes
crying?
Who wants to
feel sad?
Nobody!
But this morning,
I woke to rain on our tin roof. I turned on my phone to see Peter had text me a
photo of the sunrise in Darwin where he is. No words, just the beautiful image
of a dawning day. Our daughter’s day.
I started
sobbing and couldn’t stop.
Why does
grief invade like a parasite on these days like none others?
The solid
ground I usually have turned into quicksand today. I cried like I didn’t last
year, or the year before. And I let it sit with me to try and analyse why? Why
couldn’t I put my sadness aside? Why couldn’t I stop? But I just couldn’t.
This isn’t my
first rodeo with grief. Every year I think I know what to expect, but every
year it surprises me. And I have no control over it, which is one of the worst
bits.
How do you
control a feeling that mirrors the love you had for someone?
How do you
control the wishing that Savannah was tucked in her bed, waiting for Dempsey
and I to bring her presents in?
Well you don’t.
You just let it work you over like a punching bag, in hope the feelings may
lessen. And today, as the day went on they did.
Lessened
because of beautiful friends who remembered my baby girl, with texts and messages. Lessened by Dempsey’s
hug. Lessened by love I’m lucky to have from my people. It’s a simple and as complicated as that I believe.
Mid morning the
dog barked to a knock at the door. My beautiful friend Carol sent 19 delicate,
baby pink roses for Savannah. But when I thanked her she said she didn’t plan
the 19 roses—coincidence?
And that’s where
the little things that aren’t little things started to open me up to see the beauty
inside the grief. That maybe today my baby girl is still around. Reminding me
to smile and to be grateful for all I have. There is a force in friendship. A healing
hand, an invisible hug.
At lunchtime,
Dempsey chose where we’d eat out. As we strolled in the door, a smiling
waitress touched my arm and led us over to – Table 19. Coincidence?
Dempsey was
a bit weirded out by this. She found it strange that we were seated at a table
with her sister’s birthday number on it. But I didn’t! It brought me comfort and made me wonder….
When we got
home I felt a little better – no tears. Was it the sugar hit from the coca cola
or does the day get better as it goes on?
I still couldn’t
anaylise it. But I did notice the rain had stopped. And a rainbow was staring
at me across our lake. Again, I had to wonder--was this another sign from
Savannah?
As I stared
at the rainbow, I scrolled through the emails on my phone, and there, staring at
me was an email from Savannah’s little BFF Amber, when she was three years old—who
doesn’t know today is Savvy’s birthday.
In Amber’s
words; “ Hi Dee, this is Amber! I just got my tattoo and it came out amazing, I
am so happy I was finally able to get it for Savannah. I just wanted to show
you how it came out! I hope all is well. Love Amber."
And the
funny thing about grief is, it can be funny, weird, unusual, and surprising,
but as much as it’s my enemy, it’s also my teacher. Teaching me I’ve survived
another birthday missing my little girl with curls. That Dempsey helps heal my
heart and that friends and my people hold my hand on days like today with their
messages of love and encouragement that Savannah was here, that she was loved
and that they will always remember.
Without the
grief you wouldn’t see the gratitude--and like a bruise, my consuming hurt today
will disappear—until next time--until next time.
Happy birthday
Bubby! I miss you. x
