I have these broken pieces.
*WandaVision Spoiler:* The latest episode can be summarized like this: each door to Wanda’s past was another ingredient in her unique recipe of grief. Vision responds to her with, “What is grief, if not love persevering?” The line hit me, hard.
Because I have a box of broken pieces I just can’t throw out.
If you could open my door to South Hamilton, Massachusetts in 2004, you would see me and Matthew, navigating the loss of our first child. We worked through a special book on grief together, and over time, the grief did not… lessen… but the constant pain became sporadic, even if still sharp enough to take my breath away.
My door in 2014 was surprising, with Matthew initiating the discussion to commemorate our first born. With four more kids underfoot, and their portraits beginning to cover our walls, he felt strongly that we needed to hang something in remembrance as well. We commissioned a sculpture by Allison Luce, to hang alongside the other portraits. In the end, a pair of sculptures were hung.
And after many tears, we completed the last step we had never completed in the grief book. We named our child. Nathan Jeremiah.
The door into our dining room in Prairie City in 2020 held such joy! With our adoption complete, we commissioned a very special family portrait, this time by Ben Shirk, and decided to rehang the sibling portraits at the same time. We decided on a new location for Nathan’s sculpture.
But one of the sculptures slipped. Shattered. Splayed.
And I saw Matthew fall to the floor.
I am not sure how long I held him. We did not speak. We sat among the shards. But eventually, I got a box, and placed all the pieces inside. It did not matter that we still had the other one. The sculpture slipping felt just like our child slipping away.
So, I have this box of pieces. And I cannot throw them out.
But what is grief, if not love persevering?
Perhaps the most beautiful thing of all in these doors, is our love for our family persevering. Since I last wrote of grief, too many of my clients have been rocked by it. Young, old. Cancer, car accidents. Heart attacks, age. Lives lived, full and bright, then snuffed.
But their beauty shines fiercely. And my archive searches for images that radiate their laughter and connection to those around them, that is how my love for them perseveres. I will never love having the last images to share, but I will always be thankful I do.
As the sun breaks through the clouds, and spring begins to warm our hearts, you can still share your grief with me - just hit reply! And then, let me know how you want to celebrate your family anyway. You can make your family portraits a priority this year, and enjoy everyday your people surround you and hang on the wall at the same time. For the days are truly precious.
And I have this box of pieces, but my love is persevering.
With joy,
Kat