Facing forward
Inchstone celebration coming at you! I’m not entirely sure when I reached it exactly, it sort of snuck up on me, but at some point I started thinking about the future again. And not just thinking about it, but actually looking forward to it – even planning for it. Some future thought is inevitable: schedules must be made, kids activities signed up for, babysitters booked. That kind of future planning is more logistical than anything else. They are dates on a calendar and planning for them is obligatory or a means to an end. The kind of future thought I’ve caught myself engaging in is more like daydreaming or borderline manifesting. It is equally hopeful and utterly terrifying.
Early in my grief, and by early I mean the first one or two years, I was living life hand to mouth, with one foot testing the waters in the present and the other foot solidly in the past. I stumbled in and out of “The Hads” with less grace than 21-year-old Kelly navigating Boston’s cobblestone streets in heels at 2am on a Saturday. Eventually, I was able to shift my balance more to the present with, if not less, certainly more controlled, or intentional time spent in the past. But the future? Why would I spend time thinking about the future? Not only would Adelaide never physically exist there but I was also so innately aware of how little control I had over it. Planning and dreaming, even if I desired it, felt in vain.
I do recognize that not all my future trepidations are grief related. Last week marked three years since Zoom and Tiger King forced their way into our lives. The pandemic wiped all our calendars and left us collectively reaching for pencils instead of pens. Even if life now more closely resembles the before times the lingering effects on our psyche are still there. The future just feels generally less certain. But guaranteed or not, I’m enjoying looking forward to it again.
To be clear, this latest inchstone does NOT mean that I am sitting down to outline any sort of five-year plan because I’m not sure I will ever be able to put that much faith in the future ever again… fool me once… But I can embrace what is already plotted and celebrate when those future moments are realized in the present.
The first of such moments kicks off this weekend. Jackson is performing in his school show which is a big freaking deal for this kiddo. Jackson used to LOVE to entertain us, setting up a magic show in our home, complete with curtain, top hat and rehearsed tricks. He took center stage at his preschool’s recital, attended theater camps, was enrolled in improv classes and hip hop dance classes with all signs pointing toward following in Daddy’s footsteps. Then his sister died, a global pandemic shut the world down and we moved away from his entire support system. He became more introverted and anxious and flat out refused performing of any sort. It was devastating to see this change in him, but we also recognized that he was suffering from losses too and so we supported him as he navigated his own grief.
Then, this year, something shifted and he asked to try out for the school show. I tried to hide my shock and delight as he practiced his audition routine nightly. When we found out that he had been selected we were beside ourselves with relief and joy. Over the last few months of rehearsals, it has been incredible to watch Jackson come into himself, his new self. To watch him also look to the future with excitement and anticipation toward a new goal.
With Jackson leading the way we kick off an exciting calendar of activities including a Spring Break trip planned in a couple weeks, followed by CURE’s 25th Anniversary Gala in Chicago, little league baseball season, summer and all its assorted visits and trips and then, before I know it, my pub date for Normal Broken will be here. So much to look forward to, to think about and plan for. Also, so much that could go wrong or be cancelled or not turn out the way I hope. Like I said, equally hopeful and terrifying.
There will always be variables that are out of our control. There always have been, I just don’t think we were as aware of them before. As Adelaide taught me, I will focus on what I can control and let go of what I can’t. But that still leaves Adelaide herself and living, planning and looking forward to a future without her.
It's taken time and effort, but I’ve finally accepted and understood that Adelaide does not have to have a bodily presence for her to be seen and felt in my life. It’s not the same, and will never compare, but she is absolutely with me. She’s there in the moments when I feel her spiritually, but more often it is in all the ways she shaped me, the space she holds in my memory and the purpose she has infused in my life. The magnitude of her life on mine and those who knew her is undeniable. Regardless of what the future holds, how predictable or tenuous it may be, I can face it if I know I’m not without her.
Image description: Jackson outside walking toward the camera with closed mouth smile. He is wearing a black beanie, a grey St. Louis Cardinals baseball T-shirt and grey sweatpants while carrying a red bag.
