Do your bones remember?

I asked DH on Wednesday if he thought "our bones remember?". Why the question? Wednesday made 26 years since my grandfather, Matilde, passed away. Most years it goes by without coming to the fore front of my mind. This year, since I am working at the church and I can request masses to be said, I looked up his death date and requested a mass. However, this year like the last 25 before it, my father couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, was more withdrawn, was all but silent. This happens every year. He doesn't say it. I don't think he goes through it consciously. it seems to me to be in his bones. His spirit knows and his spirit mourns the loss of his dad.

In high school DH and I had this fantastic biology teacher who was missing a couple of finger tips. I remember him talking about how those tips would itch. It was the worse itch ever because it was the only one he would never be able to scratch. Even after 20+ years his body remembered those finger tips and still felt them.

Maybe we all do that. Maybe those days are bad days not because of what is going on right now but because of something our bones remember. It's not something in our fore-mind. We don't think about it. We feel it. We feel it deep inside.

Bittersweet Birthday

Today is Baby J's first birthday, which means it's Brianna's one year death anniversery.  As DH said, it's a bittersweet day.  When I realized what today was I had to hold back tears.  DH also pointed out how many almost bittersweet birthdays there are in our families.  He almost had a bittersweet birthday; his nephew and my brothers' too. 

I know prior to Audrey's birth, DH's father was very worried about my survival of a homebirth.  Both of his parent's mother's died in or right after childbirth.  Childbirth is natural and death is natural but that doesn't mean we don't worry. 

Today I say a prayer for all of the people with bittersweet birthdays.  Today I also plan to give my Audrey extra hugs and kisses.  I want to live to give thanks to God for Audrey and for the opportunity to raise her.  Instead of getting mad that she won't go to sleep or that she knocked my glasses off my face, I'll smile and thank God.  I know not all of us get the chance to complain about sleeplessness.  So here's to you Brianna.  With your life you taught me to be kind to the least of God's children and with your death you taught me to be grateful for each day.  Happy Birthday Baby J.