Back in September when Ryan and I traveled to Perú, my yoga instructor told me something the day after our room was robbed of just about anything of value. “Watch out now,” he said. But he didn’t mean for thieves or crime or further violation, but “for the angels that emerge when the shit hits the fan.”
It’s true.
Throughout all of this, many have emerged to help honor and reflect the meaning of our losses. Today, I’d like to acknowledge those folks.
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| A remembrance angel (and a heart) from Danielle. |
First, my husband. He is the only other person who lost our son. He is the only other person who decided. He strengthens my ability to withstand the grief while also sharing his. It’s not an easy balancing act.
Second, Ruby. She is unconditional love and present tense and pure joy.
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| Happiness is… |
Third, all of you who follow our journey. All of you who reach out and accept me right where I am.
Fourth, all of the heart contributions to the Chain-Link Heart Project. We’re up to 152 hearts, people! From Santa Fe to Sri Lanka to SPACE (I kid you not)! I know most of you, but not all of you, which is also amazing. People like Kate, down in Australia, have found Lorenzo’s story and shared it. Do you have any idea how much that means? How much all of your shining hearts make me feel like my son is somehow out in the world? The chain-link connects such an intense gathering of angels, I can’t help but see and believe.
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| Vivian’s hearts. |
Fifth, the children at the orphanage. They are vital little creatures who astound me with their will and innocence. But they don’t have homes or consistent parental love. They have round-the-clock Tías who adore them and a daily shuffle of volunteers and, for those whose families are working towards getting them back, family visitation days. But many need lifelong angels to come along. I’ve known it to happen three times since I started volunteering and once in front my eyes: a child meeting her new parents and the sense of salvation you can truly see, on both sides, when it happens as it should. In the meantime, these children need to start using language. They need room to run and undivided attention and two arms that can focus on holding and feeding and snuggling only him or only her. So something must have emerged to float my hands from my empty lap to the room where they eat and sleep and play.
Even in the face of crippling loss, when we can’t imagine needing anything but what or who we have lost, still, watch out.