A deep breath, released.

I feel a little as if I have been holding my breath.  I have been dreading September for months.  It has felt as if I have been carrying around a heavy storm cloud on my shoulders.  Just the fact that it is a new month makes me feel as if I can breathe a little easier.  I can exhale the dread and sadness I have been holding onto in preparation for September.  

In hindsight, Michael's death date and birth date were hard but the months leading up to September were significantly harder.  I kept thinking, well this time last year, Michael was still alive.  The grieving process has been such an ebb and flow of emotions.  At times, I want to share and cry and talk and other times I want to be alone and cry and grieve and not have anyone see me. I cry for so many reasons.  Mostly, I cry because I miss him.  God, I miss him so much.  I wish in such a childlike manner that someone could wave a magic wand and undo what has been done.  I have found that I am not only grieving the death of my brother but I am grieving the idea of life with him still here.  Woody and Tohi were suppose to have more cousins, another aunt, Michael's wife.  I cry for all the future visits we were suppose to have. I cry for all the texts I think to send him but cannot.  What I wouldn't give for one more huge hug, one more look at his handsome face breaking into that big smile, for one more text saying he just stopped by the house, he's bummed he missed me but he put some beef jerky and smoked chicken wings in my fridge.  I cry because Woody has only a glimmer of a memory of how awesome his uncle was, and Tohi will never know.  They will not know his excitement, his fantastic, incredibly thoughtful gifts, his unconditional, enthusiastic love.  I cry because I can picture Michael buying legos for Woody and matching his excitement at putting them together.  I cry because I can clearly picture Michael in my future memories and it is still so hard to believe that those memories will never be.  I cry because in September, my wonderful sister was preparing to give birth, due just days before Michael's death date .  I cried for her and all the emotions that must have been going on in her heart as she prepared to bring new life into this world while she was, I'm sure, feeling the same dread as me.  I cry for my parents and I ask Michael to please, if he has any say in the big plan of life, to please allow my children to out live me.  Because I am not as strong as my parents or my Nana.  Mostly I cry in private.  I cry in the rare moments that I am not being pulled in some direction by kids.  In some of my happiest moments, I look around at my beautiful children, my loving husband, the beauty of my life here in panama and I cry because I am so happy and I wish Michael was in this world, finding his own place of peace and happiness.  At times, I cry when I am laying down with my sweet Tohi to nurse her to sleep.  I look at my little link baby.  My girl who bore the sadness of Michaels death with me, forever connected to him in the space between being born and leaving this earth.  Tohi met the most brilliant form of Michael, his bright, gentle spirit.  While she was in my womb, he held her hand and patted her head, holding for just a moment longer at the top of her hair to swoop his finger and give her that swirl of hair that matches his as a baby.  I look at my sweet girl with silent tears streaming down my face and she does not understand my sadness, all she knows is love and innocence.  She looks up at me and smiles so huge and smushes her face into the bed and then looks up at me with her whole face smiling, her eyes dancing.  She reaches out and touches my nose and cheeks.  I smile and she smiles.  One moment.  I think of Michael. I breathe in and breathe out.  I am alive.  I pull it together.  I think how I am unequivocally changed.  I let go of my negative emotions.  I release the "what ifs" and the feelings of anger and injustice.  I embrace my sweet girl and my life.  I live to honor Michael.  I try to have more enthusiasm for all things, more positive energy, more love showered upon all my family members, I am trying to forgive quicker and let go of negativity.  September was hard, and it probably always will be for the rest of my life.  But, September was also intensely beautiful.  We welcomed two new family members into this world. Conor's sister gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby boy.  And my sister gave birth to a perfect, healthy baby girl.  Our hearts are so full of love and gratitude.  Katie's sweet girl arrived two days before Michael's death date, filling our lives with such love and positive emotion.  Just days before a date we had been dreading, my family's hearts were overflowing with love and happiness.  Katie was overdue and I can't help but think Michael held on to Magnolia's hand until just the right time to help us focus on such a beautiful miracle instead of on such a tragic accident.  His message to us: Life is about love and happiness.