Releasing the Balloon

We've officially passed the three month mark.

Some days are completely wonderful. It's as if, now that I've known the depths of sorrow, I can more keenly feel the greatest joys. 

As usual, many of these joyful moments have involved children. I've picked up my nanny job and occasional baby-sitting jobs again. I was worried at first that this would be challenging for me. I've found that it's actually as natural as it's ever been. One of these jobs was with a four-year-old girl. We had a princess day, where I dressed her up and we danced around the room. There was a whole lot of happy going on there.

Now I just find myself avoiding very new babies and baby blessings. Those still hit a raw nerve for me.

Of course, there are still other days. Those are the days where it feels as though all hope and motivation have left me. All it takes is the slightest provocation for me to turn into ranting, angry woman, which is usually followed by the sobbing, self-deprecating, phase, which then digresses into the blank phase, where I just lie in bed and ignore my life. 

Those are the days where I have to remind myself to be patient with that bloodshot eyed woman in the mirror because she's still recovering. So I read my scriptures, poor my heart out to my Heavenly Father, let my husBen hold me and try to remember that it won't always be this way and how much progress I've already made.

Share Parents put together their annual balloon release earlier this month. Everyone who has lost a child can come and release a balloon in memory of their child. It was an amazing and emotional experience. 

We thought at first that we only were supposed to take one balloon, so we took turns writing our messages to Joseph on it.

This was when things started to get difficult. I was really holding together well right up until I started to write, "I miss you", and then I felt how strongly I missed him and it was all over after that. 

We found out that we could have another balloon, one for each of us to release. I went and picked out another one and I just filled it up with "I love you", because I often find myself thinking about how many times I would have told him that if he were here.

Everyone also made a flower with their child's name on it to put next to a path we would walk down to where we released the balloons. 

It's amazing how attached we got to those two balloons. After we wrote our letters on them, they suddenly became symbolic of our son. We stood quietly in the field as all the families gathered. 

I began to wonder if I would be ready to let go when the time came. They had a list of the children's names and each family was supposed to let go of their balloons as their child's name was read. I felt my heart rate climb as I thought of releasing this balloon. I'd let go of my son once, could I do it again? I began to sob as I watched all the balloons floating up towards the sun, knowing that once you let go, it would be out of your grasp forever. My stomach was in knots. 

Then the time came.

"Joseph Gordon Allred".

Without thinking I let go. I gasped out loud as I watched our balloons float straight up. 

But it was alright.

Just like the first time, we received the strength we needed, right when we needed it. 

Then there was peace.

Because, unlike with the balloons, I let go of Joseph knowing that I would see him again. 

If any of you are looking for ideas for service projects, Share Parents can always use help with making baby clothes and blankets and buying other things to help grieving parents. They provide an incredible free service for people in their darkest hours, but it isn't free for them. It is impossible for me to explain just how much they've helped us through this process. To contact them go here or here.