Make A Wish....
I didn't realize the community my blog would foster, or the embrace I would receive from the blogosphere. Who knew how powerful a virtual hug could be, how far a few kind words from a stranger could carry you in day. I didn't honestly think I would be blogging for this long. I simply thought I would power out, run out of stories, stop caring about my invisible friends, fade slowly into the cyberspace of the internet until I was nothing more than an old stale URL that nobody visited.
Perhaps that is my fate still, but for now, my blog, my blogging community are very much an important part of my day. I enjoy getting up, pushing my kids out of the house and cuddling up to the computer. I enjoy reading the antics of the daddy bloggers, and marvelling at the mommy bloggers who actually parent. It inspires me to stop ignoring my own children and to actually feed them non-processed foods.
(Well, up to a point - after all, who am I kidding? My love for Kraft dinner runs deep.)
I like tiptoeing through my bloglines, and leaving bits of myself through the interweb. Discovering a new blog is like finding a pair of jeans that don't give me muffin top or camel toe. It makes me want to shout from the roof tops with joy. Or run naked through a meadow of wild flowers, but I live in the arctic. The roof top idea is much easier.
I thought perhaps once my blog was made public that I would loose my zest for sharing. I would clam up and start censoring my thoughts, in a desperate bid to avoid embarrassment. But then I started thinking about all the ways I embarrass myself in my real life. How I talk too loud, bray like a donkey when told a good joke, play with my nose ring constantly, and suffer from that dreaded foot-in-mouth disease, and blogging hasn't much changed that. I have just given my friends, family and neighbours another opportunity to be embarrassed for me. Really, I like to think I'm providing a public service for those I love. I'm giving them someone to pity, make fun of and poke at, so they can avoid the misery of their own lives.
Because I am thoughtful like that.
On a serious note, blogging here on RM has helped fill the vacancy left in my soul when my youngest died. I honestly didn't know how I would survive his death, find my way through that loss. I felt nothing but pain. I knew I was still blessed with two other beautiful children, but I couldn't feel anything except a soul-wrenching hurt. There was no room for love, or humour or happiness. And that was unacceptable to me. I couldn't live like that and I didn't want my children to have a mom who was an empty shell of the person she used to be.
So I started remembering my Bug, and his beauty, and it helped to share him with the world. I made a point of picking out one point of the day, something little and finding the humour in it. To remind myself there was more to life than this fog of grief that had wrapped itself around my heart.
At first it was hard. But with each post, each day, it gets a little easier. I can't say I'm back yet, because I never will be. But I can comfortably tell you that in this past year I have grown into a new person, one who can look at her daughter and see the beauty shining through. I can feel my love for her once more, not just simply remember that I love her. I can see past my son's increasingly long hair and see through his resemblance to a dandelion puff and find humour in his desire to grow his hair long like his little brother's. I can feel something other than pain. And it feels good.
Don't get me wrong, dear internet. There is still not a moment that goes by that I don't wish I had a g-tube to plug in, or a string of saliva to wipe away. I miss those hesitant high fives, and that sweet spot on the soft curve of his neck. I still ache for him, probably always will. But as my daughter Fric, summed it up: It's hard to wish him back when he's in a better place. So I don't. I just merely send him kisses on the wings of the angels and ask him not to forget us.
And then I sit at my computer and tell you about the World's Greatest Dog, Ever. I write about Bug's siblings and his daddy, Boo. And I read about your lives to remember that I too, have a life. One that doesn't revolve around one little boy and his cement marker.
So thank you for that. There really are no words adequate enough to express my gratitude, or my love for all of you. Thanks for propping me up this past year and helping a girl out while she was down. A special thanks to Liz for being my first commenter ever. I have stalked you regularly since, and will continue to do so. (And not just cuz you were nice to me, but because you freaking ROCK!!!)
I am going to spend today, my bloggy birthday, doing what I love. Ignoring the dust bunnies (and my still-present mouse), sit on my ever-increasingly large bottom and reach out to touch someone.
Because I like it when you all touch me. I'm dirty that way.