When Zy died, I did not know if I was going to survive. The pain was so deep, so raw and so overwhelming that often I didn't think I would.
Not long after leaving the hospital, a dear freak gave me a way to at least take some of the overwhelming-ness (what on earth is the word I am looking for there?!) out of the equation... Fifteen minute 'get throughs'.
By breaking time down into 15 minute chunks, surviving suddenly became a whole lot more possible.
It didn't take long for all of the freaks to jump on board the "15 minute" bandwagon.
At first, they would knock on my door every 15 minutes, poke their heads around the corner and whisper, "Fifteen! Way to go!".
Then they would set an egg timer for 15 minutes and when it got to the end they would do the 10 second count down and then go crazy - shouting and whooping and cheering like mad.
Finally, they began decorating those brightly coloured origami squares and putting them up on the wall, with each one representing 15 minutes.
This was my favourite of all the 15 minute celebrations. I loved the bright colours and the notes of encouragement, plus, watching all of those 15 minutes adding up was like visual proof that I was surviving. That I was living.
By the time the squares ran out, the wall was covered in vibrant patches of energy - celebrating life, 15 minutes at a time.
There were three packets of squares bought, and some squares were used for other things. Nobody counted them as they were going up on the wall, but when the last square went up someone decided to add them.
When we figured out how many hours of 15 minutes were on the wall, we counted again.
Then again.
Then one more time, to be sure.
They add up, exactly, to the time Baby Zy spent with us, alive.
His alive time.
Not long after leaving the hospital, a dear freak gave me a way to at least take some of the overwhelming-ness (what on earth is the word I am looking for there?!) out of the equation... Fifteen minute 'get throughs'.
By breaking time down into 15 minute chunks, surviving suddenly became a whole lot more possible.
It didn't take long for all of the freaks to jump on board the "15 minute" bandwagon.
At first, they would knock on my door every 15 minutes, poke their heads around the corner and whisper, "Fifteen! Way to go!".
Then they would set an egg timer for 15 minutes and when it got to the end they would do the 10 second count down and then go crazy - shouting and whooping and cheering like mad.
Finally, they began decorating those brightly coloured origami squares and putting them up on the wall, with each one representing 15 minutes.
This was my favourite of all the 15 minute celebrations. I loved the bright colours and the notes of encouragement, plus, watching all of those 15 minutes adding up was like visual proof that I was surviving. That I was living.
By the time the squares ran out, the wall was covered in vibrant patches of energy - celebrating life, 15 minutes at a time.
There were three packets of squares bought, and some squares were used for other things. Nobody counted them as they were going up on the wall, but when the last square went up someone decided to add them.
When we figured out how many hours of 15 minutes were on the wall, we counted again.
Then again.
Then one more time, to be sure.
They add up, exactly, to the time Baby Zy spent with us, alive.
His alive time.
