DD-Day: A Day of Miracles

What an amazing surprise. Today was a day full of miracles.

Last night was not a night full of miracles. Last night was a night of me behaving badly and Bruno being very patient, and then less patient, and then, thankfully, there was sleep.

But today.

We woke, and decided, yes, we would drive to Mendocino but, no, we weren't yet sure whether we would scatter the boys' ashes. We brought the beautiful green urn that currently holds them and our pictures of them, and headed up the coastal route.

We were met with a stunningly beautiful day, and that awe-inspiring California Pacific Coast scenery. We talked together, and were quiet together (and bickered together: whaddaya gonna do?) while the mountains and the redwoods and the cliffs and the waves and the blue sky rolled by. We talked about what the ashes meant to us, and where and how we currently experience the boys. I no longer think of them as infants; they feel like wise old souls to me. I don't think I believe in an after-life or reincarnation, and yet I see Pedro and Archer everywhere, including in the two squirrels who frolic daily in our backyard . It's a paradox I'm willing to live with. (The black squirrel is Pedro Squirrel and the gray one is Archer Squirrel: don't ask me why, but it just feels right)

We arrived at the botanical garden in Mendocino four and a half hours later having made no decisions. As we started down the garden path, Bruno turned to me and asked: are you scared? Yes. We walked straight through to the part we were aiming for: the place where the gardens become cliffs that end in the Pacific Ocean. It is a truly gorgeous vista: forest and garden behind you, cliffs, waves, rocks, spray and sun ahead. The noise of nature muffles everything else. We sat for a bit and thought some more, and then arrived at this decision: no, we weren't ready to part with everything we had physically left of our first children. And we also wanted to start to let go, not of them, but of this pain, this grief. To start to give them back to the Universe. So we scattered some of the ashes on this lovely spot and watched the wind return our boys to the air and the earth and the sea. And we will scatter some ashes in a different lovely spot each year to commemorate their brief existence in this world. And it felt right. It felt like an opening up, a loosening of grip, a sharing with the Universe.

We were walking back toward the garden exit, when into our sight swooped two dragonflies. They hovered for a second together, then flew off into a side section of the garden. I immediately burst into tears: we carry two dragonfly charms on our car keys to symbolize P+A. Bruno held me (and whispered gently into my ear that I should try to stop making a scene!) We followed the dragonflies, and ended up in a corner filled with hydrangeas, blue hydrangeas: our wedding flower. Miracles.

As we left the garden, we were seeing twos everywhere: two doves took off from in front of our feet, two birds separated from a pack winging overhead. We drove to the town center of Mendocino to have dinner, walked down to the waterfront and arrived at the exact moment the sun was slipping down behind the mighty Pacific. And we walked back up the street, a single hummingbird stopped and hovered right in front of our noses before heading on her way. A whisper of the future? Miracles.

After a lovely dinner and a cozy nap all the way home (thanks, B!) I am left with a surprising sense of gratitude, something I NEVER expected to feel on this day. I am grateful I got to carry Pedro and Archer and know them for the time that I did. I am grateful for my beloved husband, who is so full of integrity and honesty and compassion. I am grateful for every one of our fantastic family and friends who have helped us face this tragedy and give us daily the courage to keep walking through it. And I am grateful to the Universe for giving us a day of miracles today.

More soon, and love always,
Lisa