If it were the me of three years ago writing this, I’d be complaining today. I’d be annoyed that our new flooring install didn’t begin on schedule. Or that the doors aren’t ready. I’d feel stressed that Mason missed swimming and I’d probably be pretty miffed that Crayton’s hire car got itself scratched and dented this morning.
Writing from the New Universe though, my only real reason to complain today would rightfully be about today marking the start of February. The month of missing and wishing and life-a-changing. It’s the month that plunged us from carefree happiness to the darkest of voids. Where nothing was ever the same.
It seems though, my new is changing too. As I approach a third February without Ava, the new includes so many lessons and so much beauty I just don’t feel I have a right to complain. Of course I miss. I wish. I yearn. Every single day. I forget a life that didn’t include those things. But I can also look back on thirty six months and see how far I’ve traveled. Or, at times, been carried. I prefer the new me, I like the life I’ve created out of ruin. I know less fear, I filter out the unimportant and I know what it is to truly, deeply love. So many beautiful things to be glad of.
I don’t write these words lightly. It has taken a lot to get to here. I had three choices after February two thousand and seven. I could cease to exist. (Shocking? Not really. Ask anyone deep in grief how viable that option might seem at times.) I could continue on breathing whilst moving nowhere. Barely enduring grief filled days that would undoubtedly project onto my other children. Or, I could do something even harder. I could make a promise that Ava would not leave un-noticed. That I would do better. As a mother, a wife, as my self. That our new family would survive and be strong and embrace what remained. That I would live life. For Ava.
I consciously chose the latter. There were many, many days where the grief smothered my hopes. There will be more to come. But three years on, I see our family as happy again. We’re mending. We cherish one another, and our memories of Ava. Our Superprincess shines as brightly as she ever did. I look forward to including her in so many beautiful ways going forward and know that we will never let her light go out. While I know there will always be moments where The Missing sneaks up and steals the air from my lungs, today the bigger picture fills my heart.
I won’t lie. It’s been a struggly week.
My beloved is in California while I’m in Renovation Town.
I’m accessing the top floor of my house via a ladder. Don’t Look Down has become my new mantra.
I’d stay downstairs except there is no downstairs.
This is no longer very much fun.
but, the upside?
When I do find my way upstairs, it’s starting to look a little pretty and the happy minutes we spent in here yesterday made me remember that none of it really matters anyway.
Renovation or not, I have absolutely everything I need.
Because, every single day when I drive this road late, I swoon at the light.
It’s what made me pick up my phone and snap as I traveled home.
Mason asked “what’s Mum taking pictures of?”
and Luca replied “the sun”.
I love that he knows.
I’m not capturing trees or houses or people.
It’s that late, hazy glow.
The golden wash and the sweeping shadows.
That last hour of light.
It transports me.
Calmed.
Inspired.
Without doubt or worry or wishing.
Lost in the moment.
Me.
to make fresh or sound again, as though new; clean up, replace worn and broken parts in, repair, etc.
to refresh; revive
Refreshed and revived? Surely you jest. The home maybe. The home owners however, are the exact opposite of revived. We are running out of enthusiasm forbeing woken daily by large machinery and trying to assemble breakfast on a work site. We have no flooring, kitchen or laundry. Walls have turned into plywood on their way to becoming doors. And oh, the dust. It all comes down to the dust. I take it away and someone puts it back again. Throw some children on school holidays in and you’re on the road to insanity.
The really, really good news though? Apparently we’re almost done. If I had a dollar for every person who’s said “it’ll all be worth it in the end” I could have paid for ten renovations. If we actually get to “the end”, I’ll let you know if they were right.
Here’s Ivish annoying assisting Dad with the painting yesterday. (Excuse the crazy bed hair. It was early and her mane is a part nest/part fluff at the best of times.)
A favorite childhood memory of mine..Summer rain, running around with my cousins..catching frogs, collecting tadpoles.
Given this, if you’re around at our place when it starts to rain, you’ll hear the same old battle begin.. Fun Loving Mother takes on Paranoid Father as to whether running around in the rain is acceptable. (Being British, he permanently thinks there is either lightning or ten deadly snakes waiting just outside the door). Yesterday, arming myself with a gaggle of whining, pleading children, he was clearly defenseless and yay, we got to do this:
I myself got totally soaked whilst finding out that capturing splashes whilst attempting to keep one’s camera dry is an exercise in speed and agility.
Along with the photos, I shot some video footage..something I rarely remember to do but I’d love to get better at.. I thought I’d share a quick snippet of Ivy’s take on the whole puddle jumping concept. I just love her confusion that they were actually allowed to be out there and the typical toddler inability to share – even mud puddles.
