three years

Sunday, December 18, 2011

it is hard for me to believe
that it has been three years
since cooper died.

there are moments
when it feels like yesterday.
and then there are moments
when it feels like a life time ago.

i can still recall
all the tiny, minute details
of that morning.
of how our lives changed forever
in the time it took to get a cup of coffee.

i have learned alot over the last three years:
about myself, my family, my friends and strangers.
about the resiliency of the heart, its ability to expand, to heal,
and to love.
about grief, compassion and living an honest life.

grief and loss is not something that
you want to learn about.
you don't wake about and think
"i need to work on my ability to move through loss."

but the reality is that we all face loss at some point
in our lives.
we are never really ready for it.
and no matter what the loss is, it feels insurmountable.
it is smothering, constant, and will bring you to your knees.

i still believe that there are two ways
to deal with grief.
face it head on. look it square in the eye
and say i am choosing to live.
stick your head in the sand. be the victim.
and choose to live in darkness.

in the days after cooper's death
i couldn't see my future self, my future life or
my future son.
it was too painful.

i wanted the grieving and healing
to be fast, over, done with and tucked neatly on the shelf.
it didn't happen that way.

the first year was a daily battle.
we had a house full of baby stuff
and no baby.
i worked every single day
on learning to live without cooper.

the second year was full of missed moments.
every milestone chace hit, there was a sharp twinge
in my heart, saying "we missed this with cooper."
i realized that i could not live chace's whole life thinking
of might have been with cooper.
it wasn't fair.

this third year has been full of acceptance.
a gentle acceptance of what is.
i still get mad.
i still cry.
my heart still aches for my sweet boy.
but i am more at peace.

i attribute this to my yoga practice.
it is time that i give myself
to breathe, to work on myself.
to feel whatever it is i need to feel.
to laugh. to cry. to hurt. to sweat.
to just be.

finding this place of calm
was such an unexpected surprise.
it was cooper's cardiologist who
encouraged me to try yoga.
and i am so grateful.

on the rare occasions when our
mats next to each other it brings me peace.
our hearts beating together for coopers.

there are times at the end of the day
that i am tired and dont want to go to yoga.
but i know that it brings a calmness to my life that i need.
a healing that is gentle and steady like the breathe that guides the practice.
it connects my heart to my sons hearts', both cooper and chace.
and this helps me find a gentle acceptance of what is,
even if only for a few moments.

each year since cooper's death has brought
a greater understanding of myself,
made me a better parent, friend, daughter and spouse.
though my heart will always be scarred, it does to continue
to heal and to mend, slowly.


  1. I'm thinking of you today, especially. Have a wonderful Christmas
    in NM. I know all the cousins will have a great time. I'm sorry I'll
    miss the cookies again this year. Make fun memories and send me lots of pictures.


  2. So proud of you. So inspired by you. You are so loved by so many. Thank you, for you. Xo always. <3 you, too, Cooper.


  3. Lucinda, this was such a beautiful post on the evolution of greif. It is one of those things in life you can never predict and ends up teaching you so much about yourself and those around you. I hope you and your sweet family had a very merry Christmas. You are in my thoughts and prayers. May year four bring even more peace than three did.

    Sending hugs your way,