It is interesting to me how different people are in the night as compared to how they are in the morning. At least I am anyway, so I assume most people are. In the night I am more susceptible to my fears. I worry more. In some ways I am more creative. I wonder if it is not the dark we are afraid of, but our own thoughts. In the mornings I am confidant and practical. I am creative, but in a more organized manner.
As an example, look at my last post. It was night; every negative thought seemed to be soaked in truth. I could not believe I would ever be myself again. Yesterday morning I read something somebody wrote that said, "having kids doesn't change who you are." There was no context to it, just a statement hanging out there. I thought I had ignored it and went on. Later in the morning I had stumbled onto a learning site called memrise.com. I have been slowly trying to become fluent in Spanish for over fifteen years so I was trying out their Spanish session. I mentally stepped back and looked at myself. I was curled on my couch wrapped in a blanket, cup of tea in hand, trying to learn something. Unbidden the thought, "Losing a child does not change who you are either." I knew it was the truth. I love my son and could never have imagined living without him, but I am. My grief will always be a part of me. On low days, and lower nights, it will take control, but it will not change me or keep me from enjoying life as much as I can.
Normally I am not walking around repeating clichés, but the morning I found Jason I kept silently repeating the phrase "life is for the living." Instinctively I knew I had to remind myself to focus on my two living sons. The mantra helped me make it through the morning without breaking down. It helped me to clear my mind and make arrangements for my other children to be told about their brother, and arrangements for Jason's body as well. Later, Grace told me about a couple she knew that forgot they had other children the day they lost a child. They had to be reminded about them. I can understand that. The shock and pain are enough to damage the mind. Slowly I am healing, learning to live again.