Beautiful Things

2010 has been quite a ride. At the beginning of this year, I'd have been hard pressed to find things for which to be grateful. Certainly E and C and all our family, and our friends, and the roof over our heads and food in our bellies, and and and. All the things we remember at Thanksgiving, and always when we take time to be grateful for our lives.

But this year knocked all the charity right out of me. I had to cling tightly to those things, for fear they'd be yanked out from under me, too.  And then the darndest things started happening. Through the lens of grief, I started finding all these wonderful new things for which to be grateful. Notes in the mail. New friends. Flowers.

I want to show you three material things I acquired this year that have really helped me through. The first is this beautiful necklace. It was sent to me by old friends from college--girls I'd lost contact with but had reconnected with through that demon FB. (Now, don't judge, but these girls who sent it were in my--dun dun DUUUUN--sorority in college. And our mascot was an angel. I think it's fitting.) I wore it all through O's pregnancy as my talisman, keeping us safe. I love it. It reminds me that there are people out there, in and out of my immediate life, who think good thoughts and direct them our way. It feels really good.

So then there's this worry stone. This summer I went out for a nice evening with one of my good friends. We were celebrating her birthday, and she handed me this stone. It's hers, but she lent it to me to hang onto during O's pregnancy. She wanted for us not just worries to be gone, but joy, too. And I'll tell you, it helped. I brought it with me to my sonograms, and just knowing it was with me helped keep me sane.

And finally this. The day after O was born, my best friend came to visit us in the hospital. She brought a gift for baby O, and and gift for me. This silver bracelet with birthstones for each of my babies . . . I am not sure I can express what it means to me. Because they are all my babies, even she who's not here.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not pulling sunshine out of a shitstorm. I can't find anything good about Calla's death. Not one thing. But what I can do is try to keep appreciating the good things that didn't die when she did. I can pull my had out from under the covers once in awhile and see the world going on, with or without me. And hold my breath and jump back in. These things help keep me going.