I was reading someone else's blog this morning and in her personal profile she wrote, "...I live a happy, sweet life...". I was instantly both angry and wistful. Not angry at her - it's wonderful that she feels her life is as perfect as it is. I wish we could all say the same. More than anything that's my wish. I just felt angry that the gods seem to dole out the good and bad so randomly, seemingly without reason or purpose. One person is blessed with a blissful life and a little girl who is her creative muse and another sometimes dreads waking up in the morning because of the sorrow she knows is waiting there for her.
I feel guilty for the jealousy I felt when I read how picture perfect this woman's life seems to be, but it's just that as soon as I read that statement I realized that I'd never be able to say it myself. I have been incredibly blessed with many sweet gifts throughout my life - a million and one happy moments and friends and family who mean the world to me and always will. I am well and truly blessed, but my life's perfection is now the "once up a time" kind I can only refer to in the past tense. The sweet perfection I once knew is gone.
I don't know why, but that made me so sad. It's not like I won't have perfect moments ever again or that life won't one day feel sweet again, but beneath it all, for the rest of my life, will be the loss of my little Thomas. That pain and sorrow will forever be a part of my life.
It's like I'm now somehow flawed.
Don't get me wrong, it's not that I thought I wasn't flawed before. I'm not oblivious to my flaws (of which I have many) but this is one that no amount of exercise, dieting or therapy can correct. There's nothing I can do about it - it's just always going to be there.
I guess the trick is going to be living my imperfect life with meaning and purpose so that the imperfection doesn't become the thing that defines me. Although I suppose in a sense it will define me if I spend the rest of my life trying to ensure that it doesn't. Hmm, that's an interesting catch-22.
I wish this was all easier. I wish I knew how to live my life beautifully without my son. Right now it's all such a struggle - it seems like so much work. It's hard balancing the sorrow with the joy, making sure I give each the right amount of weight every day. It's hard vacillating between being incredibly hopeful and incredible pessimistic. It's hard trying to find ways to make my life meaningful in a way I didn't know I had to before.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm living my life for me or for Thomas. Or maybe for both of us. I just don't know right now.
I guess I'll figure it out as I go along and see if somehow I can't manage to have an almost happy, almost sweet life. Eventually.