Our bodies and hearts remember things that our brains don’t always. Our minds sometimes catch up, after a while.
I’ve had that experience every spring since my Grandmother died.
For some reason, I can never remember the date of her death, even though I am normally quite good at remembering dates.
I don’t know if it’s because of how painful that death was.
Or if it’s because of how painful and difficult that whole year was.
That was the year of bereavement in my family. In a space of nine months, each of the senior members in my family lost their long time partner. The entire generation; my grandfather, my mother, and my uncle all were in mourning.
It wasn't lost on me that it was a nine month time period. That seemed cruelly ironic. That instead of expecting and giving birth to the baby that I so desperately wanted, instead, all of the partners in the older generation were gone.
In that time period, I had two miscarriages.
One of the miscarriages was so early that it could have been considered a "chemical miscarriage". I found out I was pregnant one day, a Monday, and started bleeding by Thursday.
Somehow, that was supposed to have made it better, easier, less painful,or maybe just less real, that it was a chemical pregnancy.
It wasn't and it didn't.
The point to my rambling is this. Every spring I don't remember the date of my grandmother's death.
And without fail, for the last twenty plus years, I am reminded by a family member later in the day about the date.
Interestingly enough though? I still remember. I wake up in the morning with a feeling of being unsettled, sad without reason, foggy. The day continues that way, everything seeming not quite right, feeling not quite in the present.
Same thing happens about the miscarriages. Our bodies, hearts and minds do remember.
I know how old those babies would have been. I know what season their due dates are, even twenty years later.
And there is a lingering feeling of loss, even two decades later. A bittersweet layer that allows the sun to shine through but darkens the moment just a bit.
What would life have been like if those babies had survived? Who would they have been? What would I have been like?
Our hearts do remember.