I let life pile up. I strategically shuffled the layers of it over the pain. Never completely hiding it but dulling it's effects. That's unwise, letting the grief rise up with no where to go. I shut the door on her nursery and let a thin layer of dust cover my journal.
Then the universe gently nudged my heart and gave the grief a chance to surface. Once the light hit it there was crying and pain , oh the pain. I stopped struggling and let it seep out. A healthy does of reality. I sometimes tell Beau, I can't believe our daughter died. It's so traumatic that I think your brain sometimes helps the burden. Masking the pain a bit with disillusion, like a bad dream feeling. The rest was my fault, trying unsuccessfully to smoother it.
I feel better. Naming the grief, giving it the time and attention it deserved.
Our Piper girl's brick was laid in the butterfly garden at the children's hospital, where I work. Loads of good people who care for us and our daughter rallied and had that brick placed as a permanent memorial.
Forever Loved. Forever is without end. It's appealing to think that we will love her beyond our earthly lives and it scares the heck out of me that I will live with the pain of my child's death until the day my soul joins her for a sunny picnic.
The magnitude of support I continue to receive is the strong foundation for my stability. I think it's helpful to have some tangible things in remembrance of Piper. It makes my grief purposeful, giving it a place to reside. In the necklace I wear with her tiny handprint, Beau's leather bracelet with her initials, the scholarship, the tiny gift that was given in honor of our friend's Mom, and so on. Her gold urn and birth announcement both gifted, are on display in our living room. It's my niece wearing Pipe's bows. Our loved ones continue to come up with creative ways to weave my child's legacy.
That brick was a reminder. Forever. As scary as that is, I won't fight it, the grief will ebb and flow, sometimes overwhelming and other times a distant roar. If you shove it down too long, you will drown. Don't let grief sneak up on you. Head it off with purpose.
Reat easy my Piper girl, you are Forever Loved.
Piper Kai Bennett
I will scream, sing and share her story may it be short. Our only child was born still at 36 weeks secondary to an umbilical cord accident. This is our journey about choosing life rather than existence.