I'm inching my way up to 3 years since Kamila crossed over. The grief I experience from losing my sweet girl comes and goes, and for the most part I've learned how to surrender to it. When it comes, I let it pass through me as soon as possible. I find privacy, and allow it to move through my body which starts to tremble. My legs start to shake and sway, my entire body bears down in pain, I brace myself with flexed muscles and hold my breath indeliberately. Flashes of a moment in her life appear. Sometimes it's a memory, sometimes it's her, at some point in her life, just looking at me.
I don't go looking for these images or memories. They just surface. Today it was her at 6 years old, the same age that my son Eli is. I think the grief that moved through me today was triggered after taking him to the carwash this morning. It brought back memories of taking Kamila, many years ago. At 6 she would still be an only child. I break the rules with all my kids and let them sit in the front seat for a carwash, when they still need to be riding in a booster seat in the back. We blast music and dance. Eli and I did just that earlier -- so much joy straight into my heart.
When we came back home, I started to get flashes of her at 6 years old, looking at me with her precious little smile. Her hair parted in the middle, about shoulder-length, and curled out at the bottom. Looking for something fun and exciting to do, no doubt.
My body was suddenly heavy. I put my arms down onto my bed, and pulled myself into fetal position. I bore down in pain. Tears streamed down my cheeks onto my pillowcase, making a big dark circle on the light grey fabric.
It breaks my heart knowing the end of the story when I look at her beautiful being at 6 years of age. How could I ever have known that she would die so young? That she would only live another 13 years? I can feel my brain trying to make sense of it all, as though trying to solve the most complex of riddles.
It's been hitting me that I have so many parts of Kamila to grieve. Grief that will be triggered by all kinds of things. So many ages, moments in time still need to surface. The image of Kamila at 19 it the most current one I possess in my memory. But there was Kamila at 3, 6, 9, 12, ... all parts of her that culminate to a beautiful lifetime of 19 years.
I say I've gotten used to letting grief move through me, but don't let that mislead you into thinking that I don't feel the same amount of pain that I have felt since the beginning. It's just shorter now, and more contained, when I grieve my girl. Writing helps me, and so does the forest, the sunshine, exercise, and supportive love. This is my life now, and I'll keep doing it in a heartbeat so that I can experience my life to the fullest, just like Kamila did.
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