Intermission…

My Dearest Family & Friends,
It’s been 120 weeks and 6 days since time stopped. I have learned somethings since that day, though some things remain unanswered. Unanswerable.
I know I say this a lot, but, I am not the same woman, friend, daughter, sister I was back then. Some of you have stood right beside me or orbited around me or drawn in closer to me through these changes and some of you have slowly (or quickly, I’m not even sure) moved at the speed of life, out of the realm of the grief stricken, out of my orbit. I see now that our pain is as unique as each of us have always been. How we hold it, confront it, shield ourselves from it, deny it, embrace it– is as different as our personalities, looks, beliefs, dreams. There is not one amongst you that has shown up or that has strayed in the same way as another. I marvel at it all; such a beautiful tapestry of different colored threads, you are. I hold you all, no matter where you find yourself these days, so close to my heart. I’m grateful for the love we’ve shared, for everything you’ve given to me in my life. I can’t begin to imagine what this has been like from your point of view anymore than you could begin to fathom my perspective, even though some of us have tried to translate our feelings into words, we cannot truly relate, so that even with those whom I have spoken with feel at times so far away. Having spent all of my life so deeply embedded and enmeshed in my friendships & relationships, it is indeed strange to navigate this shifting terrain with those who’ve stayed near, and stranger still to consider the reverberations from those who’ve chosen to turn away in their own way from this– an already awkward reality presenting itself in an almost blurry light, obscuring that which was once crystal clear.
I want you to know that if you have found yourself unsure of what to do or how to act or how to reach out to me because it’s been so long or you feel left out or you think I have somehow excluded you from this deep space, that I totally understand. I want you to know that I’m not mad at you for not having the right words nor for expecting answers or clarity from me about what I need or who/how I am and being disappointed in the absence of any kind of useful information. I honestly think I can empathize! Also, I want you to know even if you have kept me close and showed up frequently–physically or energetically–whether near or far, but you aren’t actually sure where I’m at or if I’m “all there”–That I am so so so grateful and I see you and I thank heaven for you every single time I pray which is a lot these days.  I just want all of you, all across the breadth and depth of my life, to know that I know things have seriously shifted, that I’ve changed, And I really just want to acknowledge before any more time passes between us that if you haven’t known what to do, say, how to show up or act–please multiply that times a zillion to understand that I’m not sure either– I’m not sure what you should do or what on earth I’m supposed to do. I have no announcements that I’ve figured it out or I’m put back together again or that I even have anything valuable to offer you or your life or well being or that you can count on me or mix me back into the fold or that I even have anything to say. I probably don’t. But I think of you– all of you, often, so so often. And I just love you. Im writing this because I love you, because I miss us, because I remember you, because I’m grateful and because I didn’t want anymore time to pass without just saying: For fucks sake. This sucks. Im sorry. I’m trying to keep putting one foot in front of the next and it often feels like that is all I’ve got inside of me. To keep moving, growing, healing, breathing, trying. And I don’t know what I’m doing most of the time yet it’s not chaotic; it’s slow– it’s intentional–as I sort it out, brick by brick, and it is calling on the deepest, quietest, most focused parts of me almost all of the time, and I’m committed, which may or may not be the right way, but feels right for me. And in that regard, if you’re wondering, I am ok. I don’t live a full life, yet, but I’m alive because I’m taking one step at a time… And maybe you’d do it differently, and maybe you don’t pretend to know how to do it. But I love you, still, as always. Love has survived; unscathed, unshaken, intact. I have learned that nothing destroys love.

Not even this.

I love you.

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Published by: christinaryanstoltz

I write to touch the supple center of unguarded ache~ To release myself from the pressure of not knowing how to move forward from the unfathomable loss of my beloved son, my beautiful boy Isaac, to suicide, of not knowing how to release my grip on of the past, both the worshipping of it as well as the beating myself up for it, and letting go of the need to know what I could’ve done or what on earth I will do now. I write to heal.

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