Invisible Dates

I started today’s blog thinking that it would be a tribute to our youngest KGR, but it seems like God has other plans. Kasper’s birthday is coming up, and there are additional reasons that he has been close to my heart. My attempts at writing solely about him were swallowed up by the reality of time. A blog about Kasper seems harder to fill with content. He was almost 26months old at the time of the tragedy. Just over 2. We had an achingly short time with him… There are simply not as many memories etched into our hearts. Too, it is hard to share his personality because it had only just started to be revealed to us. Both of these thoughts led me to realize that there is another topic for sharing that those not familiar with grief might be completely unaware. I will call these menacing hits “invisible dates”.

For us, one such date came in April of 2023 when we had officially spent more time with the mere memory of Kasper than we had being able to hold him. That realization hit me like a ton of bricks. It was such a low blow! How can it be that we’ve spent more time loving him post-tragedy than we got to do while he was alive? It feels like a gross injustice! He got so much less time with us, and we got so much less time with him.

Now we are preparing for another. At the end of November Klark and Kharis will have been our babies to hold longer than we got to hold Kasper. This fact hurts my heart. I know that Kasper isn’t bothered by this, but my heart screams. Everything Klark and Kharis do from here on out will be in the shadow of “Kasper never got to…” And, I wish I had gotten to see Kasper…”

Did we get our one-minute rest between rounds? We will go the distance. Jesus holds us up. But man am I tired.

Our twins are blessed with opportunities that our KGRs were not. So, in that way, they have hit a few of these milestones already. This balance of grief and joy walking hand in hand through invisible dates is about to become constant. These moments come with a gratitude that could never be fully expressed and that gratitude leads to our full presence in the moments as never before! For that, I am grateful. For that, I’ll need a good cry.

Psalm 90:12 Teach us to number our days and recognize how few they are; help us to spend them as we should.

I have brave friends who have traveled this road before me. Friends who lost babies in utero, friends who lost babies at birth, and friends who lost babies in their infancy. Some of them have gone on to have a child(ren) post-loss. There is never a time that they do not feel this. They watch their older children, others’ children, and now their rainbow babies experiencing the life that their angel babies did not get. I will grow closer to them as I begin to experience similar invisibility, as I grow eyes that see what could’ve been and never will be.

A mini rabbit trail… I don’t understand why it is that we choose not to see miscarriage, newborn, and infant loss for the pain that it causes. I am grateful for the 2 years, 1 month, and 27 days that I got to hug our Kasper. My friends would do anything to have had the time that I got. Grief isn’t better or worse based on the time allotted on earth. It’s different. Our loved ones’ death becomes a marker in time, a before and after, that is all. That marker moves based on our time with the deceased. It organizes life so that on the left side of it we visit all of the memories that we got to have and miss with the person who is no longer here (or regret for not doing so). On the right side, we grieve the memories we didn’t get opportunities to make. The variable of time in our losses simply decides whether we grieve more made memories or more of what could’ve been. My focus in our upcoming invisible date is simply shifting from the left side of that marker to the right as it applies to Kasper.

These are the invisible dates. The ones that no one talks about because they’re undefinable. We feel them, nonetheless. There will be those whose response to this will be “Why did you do the math to figure it out?” The answer is that had I not done the math my body would’ve felt the grief anyway. At least now I know why- I have a focus for my tears. This is one of the reasons why griefwork is so hard. It requires a ton of energy. When we’re caught off guard with things like memories and dates, we cannot prepare by making sure we have the capacity left to go the rounds. I have found that when I look ahead, I can make decisions about when to sit with grief so that it is less disruptive to my life. We have to make the space, or it’ll be made for us.

I believe something beautiful happens when we acknowledge these invisible dates. We have the opportunity to fight for the right of our loved ones’ memory. I have officiated two memorial services for babies post-tragedy. Both times I have felt that the underlying determination was to fight for their memory, to give them (and their families) a voice, to remind people that no matter the brevity of their life, their love lives on! How much purpose did they have in those few moments for God to see fit to bless us with their presence?! They’re beautiful shooting stars in an otherwise still sky! The world is different for EVERY person who EVER lived, no matter how long. I know this because He says it is so- He knit us (all) together in the womb. EVERY LIFE HAS RIPPLES. Klark, Kharis, and Kyroo are ripples who wouldn’t exist without our KGRs.

Think about your loved ones who have passed into eternity. The most beautiful and loving thing that we can do is to remember! They matter. This world is a different place because they were here. You are a different person because they were here.

Can we do something beautiful with this blog post? Please comment with their name(s). They live on in everything that you do and everything you are. Let’s give them the honor of legacy through our love! I look forward to remembering with you.

Sad and broken. Beautifully restored.

Keep Going, Really!
-Kasper’s Mama