Our perfect *”Baby Gavin” recently returned to Heaven after losing a courageous battle with **Pertussis (whooping cough) earlier this year. We are eternally and profoundly grateful to the thousands upon thousands (upon thousands) of friends and strangers from all over the world, of all faiths and creeds, who united with our family in prayer during Baby Gavin’s horrific illness and who grieved with us and continued to petition God in our behalf during the dark days following his tragic death. You may read Gavin’s story as it unfolded by visiting my old blog here. I am committed to sharing my ongoing struggles with grief and our journey toward joy here on the new blog and am always humbled and amazed by the continued outpouring of love and support. Thank you for sharing in our journey and inspiring us with your unceasing love. God is good.
*My brother Gavin passed away unexpectedly in 2007. With all these Angel Gavins, it can get a little confusing at times, so just know that when I refer to “Gavin” I’m referring to my wonderful brother. When I refer to “Baby Gavin,” it is in reference to my perfect son, both of whom I just.can’t.wait to see in Heaven!
**You will periodically see me blog about The Sounds of Pertussis campaign. I am an unpaid spokesperson and am only compensated travel expenses where applicable for my involvement with this important cause. Join our fight against this deadly communicable disease at www.soundsofpertussis.com or like us on facebook at www.facebook.com/soundsofpertussis.
Here is where it all began.
You. It was you. You started everything.
And I don’t know if I should scream at you, or throw my arms around your neck and never, ever let go.
You died; I was born again.
Little by little, line upon line, and now here I am. Strong. Steady. Vulnerable. Unstable. All of it together, and much, much more.
I love you. I need you.
Stay nearby.
Above: me, wrapped in my swaddling clothes…
Hello friends!
I’m sorry I’ve been MIA this week.
I’m not going to color coat my life for the blogosphere… I’m in a genuine funk. I miss my brother, I miss my son and all this missing makes me feel like I’m quietly losing my mind.
Every time I close my eyes, vivid memories, horrifying memories flood my consciousness.
Showers are the worst; I didn’t realize how much deep, closed eyed thinking went on during showers.
I’d rather stay dirty, thank you.
I knew this anniversary would be hard, I just didn’t anticipate the person it would turn me in to. I’m grouchy and melancholy, and for the first time in a long time, I actually feel sorry for myself.
Bleh. I hate this version of me.
The happy news is that I respect myself enough to let myself ride this wave. One of the greatest gifts I can give myself through grief is the opportunity to simply be where I am, without frustration, without judgment.
Because this too shall pass.
It most certainly shall…
N
Note: blogged from my phone. Please pardon any crazy formatting or grammatical oversights… Muah!
cell phone picture of a print I found while packing. . . circa 2004
Today.
Today I’m grateful that this anniversary feels very different than all the rest. I finally feel closer to you rather than farther away. I’m four full years closer to seeing you again. FOUR years. That’s a lot of time. That’s a lot of change. That’s a lot of learning. And that’s certainly a lot of growing. I miss you every day, but I’m over the hump. I can now see WHY this had to be. I can see what it has given all of us. . . the kinds of people it has molded us in to. . . and I’m grateful. Sad and sorry it had to be this way? Of COURSE! But deeply grateful that God knows best. Grateful that He is willing to parent me in the very best way I need, even if it will cause me tremendous heart ache and excruciating pain. . . because He sees me not for who I am today, but for who I am meant to become, and He loves me enough to do whatever it takes to get me there.
I’m so grateful he’s willing to mold me. Kicking and screaming and fighting tooth and nail, He is still willing to mold me, because He loves me perfectly. I hope to become more like Him, Gavin. I hope to have the courage to parent your nephews in that same kind of way that our loving Heavenly Father parents me, because THAT is eternal love. THAT is love that sees beyond the here and now and into forever, together. I hope that I can follow His example, and with His merciful guidance, do whatever it takes.
Even if whatever it takes moves me away from my beautiful ocean . . .and to the middle of the desert. :)
I love you, Captain.
Sis
Finishing up the packing and about to head out. . .
As of yesterday morning, a new family owns our little white house on Wahinepe’e St.
My heart is heavy and light, all at the same time. I am profoundly happy for the family who bought it, they are remarkable, and so very, very deserving. It’s also a very meloncholy (or should I say melon choly) feeling to say goodbye to a home that has cradled us as we’ve weathered so.many.storms. I remember my brother‘s room (before he moved out and set up camp on the beach… like a bona fide hobo). I remember where I was sitting (4 years ago tomorrow) when my Dad told me that had died. I remember where the baby‘s crib had been, and how joyous I felt as I assembled it. I remember how sorrowful I was as I broke it down and placed a dresser in it’s place… so I wouldn’t have to wake up every morning and stare at it sitting there, empty. I remember hours on end of laughter, plenty of yelling and madness, and so much friendship and love that I could burst at the seams just thinking about it.
But. . . I keep reminding myself, home is where we are, together. WE are what makes a house a home. Not friendly neighborhood kids in and out of the house all.day.long, not belly laughs, or tickle fests, not dance parties or trampoline wars, not more joyous memories than I can count… it’s us, and we’re sticking together.
Aloha ‘oe beautiful Laie. A hui ho!
I heart the Instagram app. Find me! Username: natalienorton
Above image from K and D’s engagement session. Can’t wait for their wedding on the 18th!!
Happy Memorial Day.
The yard sale went well. We sold all our big stuff within the first 15 minutes. Plus, we get to keep most of it to use until we move, so that’s pretty fancy. They boys are outside “enjoying” their last shebang on the playground before the new owner comes to pick it up in about an hour. I say “enjoying,” because from the sound of things, I’m pretty certain it’s all out war.
I’m hiding in my bedroom. Don’t tell anyone.
Now it’s just time to dig through boxes and drawers and deal with all the BILLIONS of papers we’ve accumulated over the last 10 years. 63% of me wants to just close my eyes and feed the paper shredder . . . unfortunately my voice of reason lives in the remaining 37% and she says, “there might be ONE thing in there that’s vitally important!”
Since my brother died, every now and then I find little notes or drawings when I’m going through old paperwork. They are absolute treasures. Once, about a year ago, I found a notebook he’d used during the week he took his “vow of silence.” Yes, for no apparent reason, Gavin decided not to speak for an entire week. He likely just wanted to prove that he could. Flipping through that notebook, I remembered how during that week of silence, he got pulled over by a police officer, and handled the entire situation without ever once opening his mouth. From what I remember, he was let off simply because the cop didn’t quite know how to respond to the madness. He sold his truck that week as well. . . again, without ever opening his mouth.
Everything that went from his pen to paper is absolutely brilliant, and discovering things like this helps me remember that he really did LIVE, that he’s not just a figment of my imagination from a former, less complicated life. . . so. . . I’m going to spend a good portion of this day carefully going through paper after paper after paper hoping for brilliance.
Come to think of it, I guess this really is a wonderful way to spend Memorial Day. . . searching for memorials. . . ??
In Reality? This is all just a feeble attempt to mentally glamorize what will likely be me, sitting on the floor, in my pajamas, thumbing through a bunch of old bank statements and tithing receipts.
xx!
N
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