Friday, March 10, 2017

Piran



I have been writing and rewriting this for months now. Trying to find the words that have failed me for so long while simultaneously sifting through all the words that need so much to be said. I have so much to say, and so few words to say it with.

Our son died.

Our sweet baby Piran came into and left this world so quickly and quietly, he slipped through our fingers like a little ray of sunlight. He was born one day and gone the very next.

My life and everything I loved was torn into a million pieces that day. That is how it felt. Grief filled every inch of our existence. The pain of losing our little boy was so intense it was physical. Seeing my two older children experience grief and pain that I couldn't take away or protect them from was beyond unbearable. I couldn't see how I, my family or our life could ever be whole again.

But as the minutes grew into days and the days into weeks, I saw that the best things in my life were unbreakable. Our little family pulled together and carried each other through those darkest days. Sometimes we cried and ached together, but mostly we learned to live and laugh and be joyful again. If possible, I love my children (all three of them) more deeply than ever before. My husband and I realized quickly that losing Piran would either bring us together or tear us apart, and we chose to turn to each other. And we continue to choose each other as we make our way together through this world that will never be quite the same again. I am quite private about my faith, but it belongs here, among the best things in my life. It has carried me, held my head above the unrelenting waves of grief, shown me that there is light in the darkness. When I have needed it, heaven has been so, so close.

It has been eight months now. Most of our days are good days: normal, happy and busy days filled with normal, happy and busy family life. We make Piran part of our conversations and include him in our every day.. He is ours and we love him. But not a day goes by where I don't ache for him. I often cry and cry for the little boy that I hold in my heart instead of my arms. If that is troubling to you, please remember that he is my son. What else could I possibly do? But just as I am learning to make room for myself to feel and to grieve, I'm also learning to set that aside when I need to. It doesn't help or honor Piran to lose myself in sadness. And sometimes I just need to dry my tears, wash my face and pick Gwen up from preschool. Life keeps on happening, and I want and choose to be part of it.

The worst thing that could ever happen has happened to our family. It hurts so much, and I was afraid it was going to destroy us. But it didn't. It hasn't. It won't. We are still standing, and we stand together. All of us.

4 comments:

  1. You wrote this so beautifully. Made me cry again. Of course you are going to cry for your little sweetie often. I still tear up when I think of him sometimes, and I'm not even his mama! So glad you were held up and together by so many special, important things. Love you!

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  2. I think you guys are so amazing Tamsin. I remember when you were at church the day after you buried him. I admire your courage and your strength so much! I love you!

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  3. Thank you, Tamsin! Your words are inspiring. Piran is lucky to have been born into such a wonderful family. Much love to you all!

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  4. Tamsin, this is Nancy's mom, and I have appreciated knowing you a little bit (and we still have your bed!) and I am so happy to see you writing again. I've missed your voice. And I am so sorry about your lost precious son. I appreciate your expression of love and faith and courage so much.

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