Another year gone
I wasn’t sure what I was going to write this year. Even now, as I sit down at the keyboard, I’m still not sure. The last 3 years I’ve been so emotional leading up to this week that I could barely think straight. This year, though, I’ve had other things to occupy my mind so it kind of crept up on me… which is both good and bad.
Currently, I am sitting in my office downtown and can’t help but notice the array of pictures I’ve decorated my desk with.
A canvas print of Magnus
My favorite GWB picture
The oh so famous tweet
In a bizarre way, these 3 images are a perfect summation of the last 3 years: the tweet that sent me on this journey, the place I call home, and a devastating loss. The loss of Magnus is still so fresh. I feel lucky every day that I have Mojo, but being completely helpless in saving Magnus felt like losing Alexander all over again. Two things that were completely out of my control, not even the tiniest bit my fault, and yet I blamed myself and grieved both loses alone.
Maybe that’s why August 27th snuck up on me this year. Maybe that’s why the pain doesn’t seem as bad as in years past. It’s not because the pain has lessened, but because I’m still in mourning from losing Magnus just 2 months ago. Obviously, the pain isn’t the same and the grief feels different, but losing Magnus brought up so many feelings that I’ve been dealing with for months now. It’s like Magnus prepared me to take this year head-on.
I often wonder if I would have been a good mother. I probably think about this more than any other “what if” that pops into my head. When Magnus was sick, I felt like a single parent to a sick child. I felt helpless and useless and like everything was completely out of my control. When I was losing Alexander, it was the same feelings. I knew what was happening days before it actually happened. People often say that having a pet prepares you for parenthood, but really, losing Magnus finally made it sink in that losing Alexander was not my fault.
This is probably the hardest realization that anyone who has miscarried or had any kind of pregnancy loss can go through. You constantly say to yourself, “What did I do wrong? What could I have done better? Could I have saved them?” I blamed myself for the longest time even though I knew I was doing everything by the book. Even when I knew I was losing him, I was still too cautious to take anything for the pain. It’s simply one of those things that happens and there’s no rhyme or reason to it. No one knows why one baby comes to term and another doesn’t. One in four pregnancies will end without ever knowing why. It’s like when a tornado rips through a town. Your house is destroyed but your neighbor’s is untouched. The reasons why remain a mystery.
I’ve always hated not knowing why things happen. Sure, I’ve done the whole “everything happens for a reason” thing, but I feel as though you then spend your life trying to find the “reason” why certain things happen even though it never makes it any easier. I never understood why I had to be one of the 25% and I’ll probably never understand why. It could be genetics or it could be the universe saying, “Hey, we were just trying to help you out!” No one will ever know. When it comes to Magnus, that’s another “why did this have to happen?” but with him at least I was able to give him love… and that’s what I try to remember. He was a very scared kitten who easily could have stayed in the shelter for months and died without ever knowing love. Mojo and I were at least able to give him a home for whatever little time he had with us.
This notion of loving someone even for the small amount of time you have with them, I think, is what helps sustain me when it comes to thinking about Alexander. I had a journal that I kept for those couple of months and in it I talk to him. I tell him how much I can’t wait to meet him and how much I love him already. My plan was to give it as a gift when he got older. Now it sits in a box with other memories and unfulfilled promises. I never got to meet him, but that doesn’t mean I loved him less than if I had. It’s still hard to know what would have become of me and my life had things been different, but at least I know that much never would have changed.
During the months of March and August, I wear a special necklace with a footprint. The chain is long enough that the charm rests right on my heart. It’s comfort and connection. It’s for me and me alone. It’s a reminder that just because someone is gone, it doesn’t mean they are forgotten.
- Danielle
