Enjoy the ride

Dear Stevie,
As I've been working on my book, I've been thinking a lot about the things I've learned over the past year or so. About myself. About grief. About life. I've been trying to come up with a way of eloquently and succinctly explaining the most important lessons I've learned, but I just don't think I'm ever going to come up with anything as perfect as this quote from the late Gilda Radner:


"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned the hard way that some poems don't rhyme and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle and end. LIFE is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what is going to happen next." 


Gilda Radner, a member of the original Saturday Night Live cast, never lost a baby; she spoke these words as she herself was dying of cancer. 


I've mentioned in previous posts that I really hate surprises, not knowing what's going to happen next. Your death and the crazy year that's followed has really stretched me as a person, forcing me to let go of the silly notion that I have any sort of control over what happens in my life. I thought I could plan it all out, check things off my list, and enjoy the perfect life I'd created for myself. Now I know that's not how it works.


But, though I've learned I don't have control over what happens in my life, I've also learned something even more important: that I do have control of how I react to those things. I've learned to take the moment and make the best of it. It's a choice, making something good come out of something bad*. It's something you have to consciously, continuously decide to do. These things that happen in our lives, they can either break us down or make us stronger. Why not choose to allow them to do the latter? 


It's strange. I can actually remember the moment I made that decision. It was a little over a week after you died. On a Monday. I was laying out on my deck, on the new black lounge chair my parents bought and put out there in an attempt to lure me out of the house. I was just laying there by myself, the bright sun warming my face, when the thought popped into my mind, "I am going to make good things come from this." Simple as that. Loud and clear. I have no idea where it came from. At that point, it could have mainly been some sort of survival mechanism or something. But that afternoon, something changed inside of me. So much of that first month is such a blur, but I can remember that little conversation in my head so vividly. 


I often think back to that Monday in the sun. When I'm having a hard day, when things in my life aren't going the way I'd like them do, I try to remember that silent promise I made to myself. Good things will come from this. Good things have come from this. From you.


My life headed in new directions. Like a runaway train, winding its way through hidden paths and places I would have never mapped out for myself. I guess it's time to hop on board, close my eyes, and enjoy the ride. 


I love you, baby girl. 


Love,
Mom


*Yes, 'bad' is the understatement of the year. Words like awful, horrible, unimaginable, devastating, and life-shattering are probably more appropriate.