Being a Warrior

Small victories. That is what I call my days when there is not a tear shed and I don't think of you Alex in a sad way. People have warned me that grief over losing someone you love, child or anyone for that matter, comes in waves. Like how the sea moves; farther and farther out the wave will go and you just let your feet sink in the sand and feel it between your toes. Enjoying the moment and looking at all the seashells that have washed up on it. Then BAMM, the water comes in, cold and covers your feet up to your ankles and makes you shiver for a second because you are caught off guard if you hadn't been looking up. All the seashells have then been sucked away and new ones take their place as the wave then goes back out. At this time, we get a chance to catch our breath. That's a feeling of how grief creeps in and out sometimes. There are days I feel the water comes in and I swear it is hard enough to pull me under, like it wants me there. But I stand on my ground, and let my feet sink deeper in the sand. I will NOT let it move me until I am ready. This wave, that I compare to grief, I am sure would much rather have me pulled out and taken away, just like the shells on the beach surrounding me. But nope, I stand there, firm, ready for the next wave to hit me. There are days it feels comforting to feel the water, it tickles my toes and makes me giggle like a kid. It is soft and almost soothing to listen to; I am kind of frozen in time and enjoy the silence and feeling of almost being numb but still happy. My mind wanders and I can close my eyes and just picture good things. Other days, the grief, the wave, come crashing in, loud; almost deafening to me. It hurts to try to hear, and whatever good thoughts I am trying to push around it keeps getting so loud that I hear only the rage of the water. That's is when I get up and move quickly. I get out of that area, I get to a quiet place, away from that rage, that hard wave. And I stay away from the beach on those days. I try really hard not to let those waves get me. They only make me sad and harder to think of good thoughts and all that makes me happy. Thank goodness I don't visit the beach every day. But even without leaving the house, that is what I compare my grief to, those waves. How they come and go so quickly and without notice. The only help is now that time has passed, I have learned how to handle the waves. I know that I can stand firm, tall, proud. It thought it could beat me down so that I would never feel good and fulfilled. But I won. I am the warrior and I fought and I beat it. So that's why I call it a small victory. To be able to think of Alex as he was before he passed. I always used to dream and think of him when he was small and innocent. But now I can dream of him as he was before he died. A man, working, thinking of ways that school could get him to his dream. A friend to many, a kind hearted man that helped others before they even asked. So yes, I shall say that I celebrate small victories. Because it is a war to fight and keep all the good in your heart and not let anyone take it. It is my war, and I am winning more and more each day. Big changes going on. I really think Alex would be so proud of me and how far I have come in this life since he left. Living and laughing, enjoying each day with the sunshine and friends and family. Thinking of him with so much love always; yet still wishing, always wishing, he could be here to see it all in person. Being able to hear the stories of Alex  I have never known. Those are the most special parts of keeping in touch with his friends. Hearing about his escapades; his adventures I never knew about. And I shall keep my ears open to that wave, the grief, and keep pushing it farther away every time it tries to pull me in. I am in the here and now. And those waves, the grief, they no longer throw me around or pull at me. I just love the beach and its waves. I am now in control of how they hit me. And that is power. What an awesome feeling and a small victory. I will accept it gracefully.