The moon was smudged behind a veil of clouds on Thursday evening. It glowed through, and it seemed to me that it looked like the sky had worn think letting the moon shine through.
So it feels to me like sorrow has worn and ripped a hole in my soul this year. Where there should be a baby growing, to love, there isn’t. Where my Dad should be, he isn’t. It is as though every time I have wiped my eyes, I have stretched the fabric of my soul a little thinner.
When I carry that heaviness in my heart, it seems frivolous almost to suddenly notice the heavenly pink of a sunset, or the acid yellow of tiny leaves scattered against a dark path. But it is these tiny joys which I use to try and stitch my soul back together again.
It will be a long journey, learning how to love with my losses, and learning how to find my sparkle again. But every tiny joy, every little happy moment is another stitch.
I am fortunate to know some amazing women who have listened to me, shared their own stories, and made me realise that there is life beyond. The hope they give me is the fabric I weave into my darning.
I have promised myself that next year I will spend rediscovering my sparkle, gathering happiness like a magpie, putting myself back together again. I hope with all my heart I will be lucky enough to be pregnant again, and that this time it will result in a new baby. But this seems other to that, somehow. I don’t want to put a new baby as the focus of my life, as it may never happen. I can’t control it. But I can look for joy every day. I can cultivate happiness. I can try new things, rediscover what makes me happy, and find new things which make my heart sing. I can stitch and darn every day.
When I am finished, if I ever am, I know this season of my life won’t ever go away. This isn’t invisible darning, to be ‘good as new’. This is darning which later on I will be able to run my finger over, feel the bumps, and say yes, I remember.
Kintsugi is the Japanese art of mending broken pottery with golden lacquer. The mend is celebrated rather than hidden. That is what I hope to achieve here.
I won’t always be blogging about this, I don’t want to dwell. But for now, it helps to pin my thoughts down on the page. If someone else should happen to go through what I have, and my words give them any degree of comfort, I will feel happy indeed. If I can lend my needle and thread, I will happily do so.
Something I read, and I can’t remember where to credit it is that some women can find some comfort in knowing that their baby knew nothing but love. That seems like a good place to start darning to me.