February to many is the month of love, the month of someone's special birthday, the month of a special anniversary, and in the last two years it has become the month of revolutions. It is all of those to me and something more intense. It is the month I dread most of the year because in it a part of me died, seven years ago, and since then I have died a thousand deaths. It is the month I fall apart, where the heaviness in my heart transmits to the rest of my body paralyzing all my senses.
In this month, it is as if my mind sends a message to my body to let go of trying hard to hold it together throughout the year. I become numb with pain and can hardly function as usual. Not only does my heart ache but my whole body as well, the pain reaches my bones. I become hyper sensitive to the pain I carry all year round. The tears that I struggle to store for 11 months, come easily flowing with the slightest memory of my loss, not that I ever forget it. The anguish I keep deep in my heart, comes to the surface and becomes exceedingly and unbearably painful.
On February, I tend to withdraw from my social circles and immerse myself in my grief. No words of support or sympathy, although much appreciated, ease the pain. Contrary to my sociable nature, I turn into a reclusive during the upcoming days to face my woes in solitude. Then comes that fateful day, February 27th. The day of the year I faced pain in it's most excruciating form. The sequence of events of that tragic day keeps replaying in my head. I give myself permission on this day to be just a mother who is submerged in her sorrow, finding comfort in grieving the loss of her child. I pray, I write and I let go of all my emotions, surrendering to the painful feeling digging deep in my heart by letting go of my emotions and shedding all my tears. I allow myself to feel hurt, the way a parent who lost a child would. As a wise friend said:
"Grief is not a disorder, a disease or a sign of weakness. It is an emotional, physical and spiritual necessity, the price you pay for love. The only cure for grief is to grieve."So, I permit myself to do just that on this day, which helps me cope with pain the rest of the year. I normally manage my emotions considerably well. I am blessed with faith which keeps me strong and with a great family and the most supportive friends, which I am thankful for, and who are always there for me all year long. Having faith helped me come in terms with my loss, but the pain certainly and permanently persists and I have come to accept it as well.
A Dr. I visited last week asked me the routine question "and how many children do you have?" And it felt as if she had just pressed a fresh wound, I tearfully replied, "I have four, and one of them is in heaven." She was moved and asked in concern if I had someone to talk to, I told her "I have God." It is He who gives me the strength to live with my pain. It is Him who I am thankful for everything. It is Him who gives and Him who takes, to Him we belong and to Him we shall all return.