An Excercise in Refusal

A page filled with the word No written in many sizes and colors. Inside the letters of one large No is: “Sara should be here! George should have survived his birth! My life was better with you in it! I refuse to be okay with these. We were a family and now you’re both dead. No there is no good in that. ” There are teardrops smearing the ink in a few places. There are other notes woven between the Nos, including “How can you be dead? “, “How can I do this without you?”, “You didn’t want to leave us! “, “This was not supposed to happen”, “How could this happen to us?”, “I’m still so heartbroken”, and “You were my person.”

This was an exercise from Megan Devine’s How To Carry What Can’t Be Fixed, expressing my refusal to be ok with what happened to us, my refusal to accept it.

My immediate thoughts after filling the page with these words:

It feels useless to refuse. My life was ripped away from me. The foundation I had built is gone. None of this should have happened, but it did. Sara died in front of my eyes, killed by the awful cancer that started in her womb – the organ designed to create life. Why did hers kill her? We held our lifeless baby boy after he arrived too early to survive. Why? I had no control. There was nothing I could do. I may not have had a choice but I do NOT accept what happened. There is no secret reason or universal conspiracy that required their sacrifice. No No No No. I am not a better person for these experiences. But… what good does it do to refuse? They are dead! They are now ashes urns in our living room. I still have no choice. I just keep waking up each day, missing them.

I saw an Instagram post today that I feel dovetails well with this exercise, a Refuge in Grief post about how people tell those who are grieving to look to the future, but what they don’t understand is that our person(s) are missing in the future, too. I do look to the future, but Sara and George will be dead there too. I am surviving and crafting my future without them, while carrying my grief for them. Some days are harder than others. Some days, it’s helpful to acknowledge that no matter how good I’m doing or what wonderful things I’m planning, I STILL refuse to be ok with the fact that Sara and George are dead.

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