This is Weston's large memory chest, open and filled to the brim (and still quite disorganized). When I get my act together, I am going to divide it into three sections: hope (gifts and cards given in anticipation of his life), experience (things Weston used during his brief life), and comfort (objects given to us after he died).
But the point of this post is: the chest is full. Full of love, hope, and words of comfort from family, friends, and even strangers. At some point, I am also going to print out every email, Facebook message, and Facebook posts with comments, because I have received so much online love as well. There are so many that I seriously wonder if they will fit in the chest. And this does not even include all the meals and tangible help we have received.
This Capture Your Grief event is on Facebook, so I can read others' posts. Many, many people posted pictures of their husbands as their support. I felt a little guilty, because I am using a photograph of an inanimate object, instead of my husband.
Make no mistake, I don't know what I would do without Shannon right now. I am not telling him, or even showing him, because I am such a mess myself, but it is the truth. But I do not want to say that he is my rock and unwavering support right now. Because that is a HUGE responsibility to place on him. He is a father who just lost his son. He has no business being a rock for ANYONE, including his wife.
Shannon and I are alone together. I have blogged about how isolating grief is. The isolation necessarily includes isolation from your spouse. Words that comfort him upset me, and vice versa. So we just do our own thing, together. We are, however, mourning as a family: we went to the memorial service at the end of the grief conference together, and we are taking Caroline to another memorial service Monday night. But we are each alone in our thoughts and feelings.
Having so many people who care eases the burden, I think. If no one cared, Shannon and I would necessarily have to be more reliant on each other for support. And, in the instance of losing a child, that is too great a burden to bear. So, have fun reading into my marriage!
Eddie Vedder sums up the theme of this post quite well:
Yes I understand that every life must end
As we sit alone, I know someday we must go
Oh, I'm a lucky man to count on both hands
the ones I love
Some folks just have one,
Yeah, others, they've got none
Stay with me,
Let's just breathe...
Just Breathe
~Pearl Jam
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