Forgetting

I wanted to forget today.
I wanted to hide.
I woke up this morning from a dream that I'd found out I was pregnant.
April Fool's Day.
The day we lost William.
I hate this day.
I dread the jokes, the tricks, the "gotchas."
I've had enough "gotcha" to last me several lifetimes.
But inevitably, this day cracks me open wide.
My veneer is always as thin as an eggshell.
There is always, always a gaping, yawning maw at my back.
All I need to do is turn and look into the abyss. It is there, waiting.
There are days I want to freefall. But I don't.
Today, the veil between worlds is thin. Today, you could see right through my shell, if you look closely enough.
But I still thought I could escape.
We went to the movies to see "Big Miracle." It's a story with a guaranteed happy ending. It's based on a true story, so I knew it would be heart-warming and leave me feeling warm and fuzzy.
And then the baby whale dies.
That's right.
All these people have been moving heaven and earth to help this little family of whales, doing everything they possibly can to keep them alive and set them free.
Mama and Papa whale have been helping the sick baby surface, and you're sure, if they just get out to open water, all will be well...
And then the baby dies.
I forgot.
I forgot.
This is real life, not Hollywood.
Babies die.
And as I sat there in disbelief while the woman from Greenpeace sobbed over the baby's death, "We could have done more! He's going to surface! He can't be dead!" my own heart echoed her pain.
And then came the words, "There's nothing anyone could have done... he's gone."
Prayers. Grief.
And a mother and father who followed the path to open water.
Because life goes on, whether you want it to or not.
I wanted to forget.
But instead I turned and looked into the abyss, and it looked back at me.
The veil fell away.
I can't forget. Not today.
Cracked open, raw, exposed.
Free. Loved.
Beautiful. It's all so beautiful.
I love you, William.