After staring at a blinking curser for the past forty minutes, I have decided that I am just going to tell you the truth. It's not like I have writer's block, in fact I don't think I have ever experienced writer's block. Only real, official writer's get "writer's block." I would have something more like "stay-at-home-mom who wants to be a real writer someday and pretends to be a writer and might even call herself a writer when she is on an airplane and can pretend to be anyone...block." But, even then, I don't know if I have had it. When I don't write, or can't write, it's not for lack of ideas. If I am not writing it is because I tend to only write primary content - the stuff I am really living through and experiencing right now. If my primary content is too hard or too private, then I won't write. But, I don't usually feel blocked.
Today though, is a different sort of thing. It's hard for me to write today because I feel like I have already written it all before. I have been doing #AdamsActs for a while now, and I have shared my private memories, my secret feelings, and all the griefs. This is the hardest part of blogging about a story that does not change. I am out of material. I am blocked.
Remember a couple years back, when I told you all about Adam being such a phenomenal wrestler that his teammates called him "Pinner"? And then I told you how they called me "Lil' Pinner" because I followed him everywhere and looked a lot like him? Yeah, well nothing has changed since then. That still happened, it still breaks my heart, and I already wrote about it.
I just feel blocked.
I already told you that my heart breaks in fresh ways every time someone asks me how many brothers and sisters I have. That is still true. I already told you that it took me years to forgive myself for going skiing with some friends instead of celebrating Adam's last birthday with him. That is still true. I already told you that if I could go back and celebrate his life for one last time, I would give anything to make a different choice. I still regret it. I already told you that he would dance in hammer pants around the house, and that he taught me to forgive and to think independently. All still true, all still not nearly enough.
There is so little left that I haven't told you. And I don't know if I want to tell any more. Because ya know what, this is all I have left of him. I do not get fresh material to draw from. I do not get new stories to share, new memories with him, or some totally new perspective on grief and loss. This is it. This is all I have. I have already shared everything that I was given. And when I start pressuring myself and I catch myself feeling like I am disappointing all of you by not bringing something new to the table I start to feel a sort of anger burn deep within me.... an anger that screams back that nobody wants new stories to share, nobody wants more memories, nobody wants another birthday... more than me, more than my family.
And so, this is it. This is the truth. I have already told you almost everything. I have hesitantly and tentatively opened my hand and shared with all of you the most sacred bits of my story. Our time with Adam was so very brief, and as the youngest, I had the least time with him. So, in a way I am blocked. That is what happens when a life is cut short. When a bright, brilliant light is shut off, there is only the vague memory of it and everything else goes dark.
It's easier, trust me, to sit in that darkness. It is easier to call it writer's block, and to stop sharing and to just let myself be sad. But, I refuse to stay here in the dark when God has made it pretty darn clear that we are supposed to use our stories and to be the light of this world. And so, it's true, there is nothing new to share about Adam. It's true that I have said it all before.
But, as long as these old memories of mine hold truths that help this dark world glow just a little warmer, a little brighter, I will keep sharing them. And I won't put pressure on myself to share new things, because I don't have the luxury of making new memories with Adam. But, what I have is primary content. I have this day. And today, was a good day.
For Day 30, Tom and I packed up all five kids and drove to Michigan to surprise my mom. Today we all hung out, the cousins played, and my mom had all her kids and grandkids together under one roof. It was a good day. And while it's true that Adam's story doesn't change... ours is still being written. Today I sat with my nephew, Adam, who will be 17 in a few days, who was named after his beloved Uncle, and we talked about school and sports and life and his future. His story is still being written.
I watched my nephew, Tyson, play soccer a lot like his Uncle Adam did. And afterwards we all played together, and we ran and wrestled and clicked our heels and got tangled in the soccer nets... and I could see that our story was still being written. I can see that while Adam's story ended, it is still woven into us so profoundly that it continues on in its own way.
We are not blocked. We have gone through hell and back as a family, but our story is good. And it is still being written.
