Yesterday, I did something not recommended, but I am glad I did it. Upon changing my Facebook page to the Timeline format, I was able to view posts from the Trey's birth and passing. Before I knew it, my face was soaking wet from tears, not about Trey, but from the messages of love and condolences received from all who loved us and even some distant but new friends drawn in by the story of our little boy.
I was reminded of how dark that time was in our lives. Our lives were in full colorful loving light when we found out we were pregnant with Trey and throughout most of the pregnancy our hearts were bathed in that light which slowly started to dim as we heard more and more issues with our son arise. The lights fell to half mast when he was born and placed on my bosom not breathing. In the looming darkness we prayed, begged, waited, hoped, wished, and held each other while the little light of our son tried not to go out. On April 4th, 2009, our world went black as we said good-bye to the little boy made from love, living solely through love, and being set free by love. The only light left was a single tinkling star shining down from Heaven down to us that was Trey, a sorrow filled pair of parents holding a wavering flickering candle between us.
As the days and weeks past, the flicker of light from friends and family dimly shown around us. It seemed like it should have been brighter as we discovered the plethora of people who truly loved us, yet the love that we felt for our son produced still such an overwhelming darkness. As months passed, more stars appeared in the sky, twinkling lights created by the people and things that Trey's heart had touched.
A year, then two found us with a sky full of stars and a new dawn peeking through, the pregnancy of our daughter. The sky was still not fully lit, but it brightened with the dark purples and reds that the rising sun brings. Our healthy little girl shown so much light on our world, but like our very own planet, we know that there is another side to our world that still lay in darkness and we revel in our thriving second child, we know there will still be times of darkness as we long to have watched our son thrive the was she does and be a big brother to her here on Earth.
It is now, that I think of the "the light" that people claim to see when the have a near death experience. I am convinced that the light is merely the light of love collected over a lifetime, love lost, love given unconditionally, love hidden. This light of love is showered on a person upon entering Heaven as a reward for a life well lived and well loved.
Grieving can be dark, but I am learning that there is great love in grief, which in itself is solely the price of loving, which is true beauty. Yet grief can also be light, when the griever is stuck in the darkness, the loving light of others, including the one they grieve for, can brighten their world.
I look forward to a life well lived and loved so that the years will bring much more light into my life. I will freely and unconditionally give love to all who love me and even those who need to be shown such a love. Loving my two children, my husband, my family, my friends, yes, even my enemies hopefully will replenish the darkness that living without my son causes. I long to return to the light of life and love that we had before our son came to us and left us so sudden. Already, the days, weeks, and months are brighter. Many, many, many years from now, I hope to enter Heaven feeling the lifetime of loving light from the son we gave to Heaven so lovingly almost three years ago.
Until then, I can only hope that Trey is collecting the unconditional love I give, the love I feel I lose, and the love I hide and that he will shower that love on me when I meet him in Heaven. I hope to be blinded by the light of love.