Six Years.

This is in memory of my daughter, Acacia.  Tomorrow marks the sixth anniversary of her birth.  Her short life was lived from 9/25-9/28/2009.

“If I know what love is, it is because of you” – Hermann Hesse.

My first daughter, Acacia, has taught me so much about love.  And loss, and hope, and grief and beauty.  She has taught me about feeling – really feeling.  From the depths and darkness of sadness to the soaring high of love.  To touch into what you may think is untouchable, unknowable, inaccessible in our human form.  Presence.  Joy.  Witness.  Love.  That was Her.  That is You, and Me and All of Us.  I don’t know about you, but I lose touch with that most days, sometimes for months and years on end.  The path of love after loss, and after the loss of my child…well, it has been unbearable at times.  It has been lonely.  And let’s just be honest – it has been fucking hard.  Ya know, one of those things you would never wish on your worst enemy (if you believe you really have enemies in the first place, which I don’t, but that’s how the saying goes…).  It has been dark soul of the night hard.  Facing demons and shadows, and the underbelly of this beautiful world that most people don’t talk about, and flat-out ignore.  But without this – without the darkness, there is no light.  And without Acacia, I would not be who I am today.  And while I’m pretty sure I would change my world in a heartbeat to have my firstborn daughter here with me now, healthy and whole, I can say Acacia has led me on a different path in life that I never knew existed before.  And what I will make of that, well, continues to be seen and unfold in new and different ways every single day.  So today, when I remember her approaching birth SIX YEARS ago.. I touch into the depths of my sadness.  Because my daughter died, and there is nothing easy about that.  I won’t lie and sugar coat things and claim to have my shit figured out.  Far from it.  But I like what I continue to read on Jeff Foster’s Facebook page – about how our feelings aren’t looking to be healed, but held.  I have nothing I need to accomplish with Acacia, instead I can welcome my thoughts and feelings as they come – the easy ones, the hard ones and every one in between.  So, my love.  My Acacia.  On the eve of your birth, I remember you.  I celebrate you, and I mourn my loss of you.  Much love sweet girl.

How do you mark your baby’s anniversary date?  How do you experience the depths of sadness?  And are you able to touch into the soaring height of Love?

Namaste,

Shelly