Marshall and I decided to spend some time today relaxing at Wrightsville Beach and soaking up a bit of Vitamin D.
It was a gorgeous sunny day at the beach and the Vitamin D did both of our souls some good. I spent the couple of hours just sitting and breathing in the healing properties of the salt air while Marshall surfed in his favorite spot. Our intention is to one day soon spread part of Nolan's ashes in the ocean. When we found out we were having a boy, Marshall was so excited about the prospect of one day having a surfing buddy. We did the whole nursery around that theme - ocean on the walls and surfboard bedding. Marshall felt like putting some of Nolan's ashes in the ocean would allow him to go surfing with Nolan any time, any where - after all it is one big ocean.
Each day continues to get the smallest bit brighter.
Last night I read a book my Aunt Linda sent me - My Beautiful Broken Shell. I can only presume she read it too after my Uncle Jim passed away. It felt very pertinent to me living at the beach. It related the beach and all the shells and other creatures in the ocean to your life and your healing process. The broken shells on the beach are representations of our broken shells when we have experienced a loss. The loss scars us but it doesn't destroy us, just as the wear and tear of the ocean has broken some shells but hasn't crushed them. So today I looked for shells on the beach, just as I normally do. But today, I didn't look for that perfect beautiful shell. I looked for the imperfect ones. The ones that have endured the hardships of the ocean and the wear and tear of the sand and are still holding strong. I looked up and down the shell laden beach for that one shell that would represent my true self now - a piece missing, but still standing strong. After picking up a few I found a pretty perfect one. A beautiful white shell, the edges smooth but strong and almost impenetrable. Everything was nearly perfect with the shell except for the huge gash taken right out of the middle of it as if something stabbed it and tore out it's heart.
Each day continues to get the smallest bit brighter.
Last night I read a book my Aunt Linda sent me - My Beautiful Broken Shell. I can only presume she read it too after my Uncle Jim passed away. It felt very pertinent to me living at the beach. It related the beach and all the shells and other creatures in the ocean to your life and your healing process. The broken shells on the beach are representations of our broken shells when we have experienced a loss. The loss scars us but it doesn't destroy us, just as the wear and tear of the ocean has broken some shells but hasn't crushed them. So today I looked for shells on the beach, just as I normally do. But today, I didn't look for that perfect beautiful shell. I looked for the imperfect ones. The ones that have endured the hardships of the ocean and the wear and tear of the sand and are still holding strong. I looked up and down the shell laden beach for that one shell that would represent my true self now - a piece missing, but still standing strong. After picking up a few I found a pretty perfect one. A beautiful white shell, the edges smooth but strong and almost impenetrable. Everything was nearly perfect with the shell except for the huge gash taken right out of the middle of it as if something stabbed it and tore out it's heart.
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