Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Azure Skies


It doesn’t happen very often, but when I hear the whirling blades of a Life-Vac helicopter, in an instant I’m back at the roadside watching CPR being performed on Azure and I’m holding her baby.  I actually hate the sound of Life-Vac helicopters.  It’s my least favorite sound in the world and it makes me cry.

I have a yellow burp rag with green and orange tie-dyed frogs on it that my mom and Erin made me when I had Tyson.  Every time I see it or use it for one of my kids, I remember pouring water from a water bottle onto the corner of it with my mom and trying to wipe away the dirt from Eric’s eye-lashes—the dirt actually looked a little more like mud from his tears—even though he wasn’t currently crying, and we were afraid the dirt would get in his eyes and that he’d rub it.  But he wouldn’t let us and he kept squirming and pulling his head back.  : )

I see that burp cloth and in an instant his big, bright, baby eyes are looking up at me.  There’s a chill in the windy mountain air that’s blowing around everyone’s hair, and I want to put a blanket on Azure.  I want her to live and all I can do is hold her little guy and cry.  And he’s wearing funny Tigger footie pajamas.  He is so cute, and innocent, and my heart breaks for him because his mom looks like she’s not going to make it!

I’ve been thinking a lot about Azure this year.  I realized at the beginning of the year that our boys were going to turn 5 (which incidentally meant that it’s been 5 years since the year of her death, too). It pulls on my heart to know that I get to enjoy the milestones with my sweet little Tyson and to know that Azure doesn’t get to do that with her boy.  With all my heart I believe Azure is closely involved with her son’s life & that Eric is being well taken care of by Brian & Ginger.   But I still grieve for Azure.  I wish for her that she could hold him, and hug him, and throw him birthday parties, send him to Kindergarten, and still be here on Earth.

It’s amazing that someone I never knew in life has undeniably affected me through her death.  I still marvel that I was there the day of her accident.  I wonder at all the coincidental similarities between our lives.  Mitch & I were married the same year as she and Brian, we both dealt with the loss of miscarriage before we had a baby of our own, our babies were close in age, I was a school teacher & Brian was going into that profession, too—we even had the EXACT same car seat, so that when Mitchell crawled into the rolled car, he knew where the latch was and could pull the baby out with ease.  We were in the exact same place in life when she had her car accident, and the entire situation just broke my heart.

It’s been 5 years and Azure’s no longer around, but I feel like our lives have another parallel again.   About a month ago I realized that my new baby, Miles, was born just a few days after Eric’s birthday.  I didn’t think about it when he was born, because he had a due date in MAY, and I was just concerned about not being pregnant anymore.  But Eric’s birthday is at the end of April and that’s when Miles was born this year.  This year as I think about Azure I am fully aware of the beautiful days she had with Eric.  There’s something special about the first 5 ½ months of your baby’s life.  It’s just fun.  The baby days really are the best days ever.   As I’m writing this, I realize that as I watch Tyson grow I am aware of everything Azure doesn’t get to do with Eric, but right now as I watch Miles grow...even if it’s only been a short 5 months…I am aware of all the things that Azure did get to do with Eric.  I know where they were at—Azure’s baby could roll over, do push-ups, eat baby food, maybe scoot around on the carpet a little, smile and giggle. Come to think of it, he probably liked to munch on his fists and eat his toes, too.  A baby’s laugh is actually my FAVORITE sound in the world—I think it’s magical.  At least Azure got to hear that, and share those beautiful days with Eric.

I believe that Azure is my friend—even though we never associated in life, I believe we were friends before this life began.  I feel like even though I don’t really understand it completely, that I was meant to be there when she died, along with everyone else on that roadside.  I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to learn from that experience—sometimes I force myself to complain less about my struggles and I think about the gift it is to be here each day with my husband and kids—I’ve learned many things, but the memory of that day still hurts.  If it still hurts this much for me, how much worse it must be for her family and close friends.   I love them, too, and my thoughts will be with them this week on Saturday, and always—especially at this time of year.

Love At Home lyrics (we sang this at her funeral & the song always makes me think of her--I love the metaphor of the Azure Sky)

Kindly heaven smiles above,
When there’s love at home;
All the world is filled with love,
When there’s love at home;
Sweeter sings the brooklet by,
Brighter beams the azure sky;
Oh, there’s One who smiles on high
When there’s love at home.