Violet Larkin. In Love.
May 17th, 2013 | SarahLove
Lincoln is a dad, has a baby, is a father, has a daughter.
Anyway I put it, Lincoln having a baby has been incredibly hard to conceptualize.
Something that I have realized in the past couple of years, is that in life we go through stages of grieving the past that is no longer. Grief is the only word that I can use to describe how I have been feeling about various parts of my life. Maybe this post isn’t the right time to write this but I feel like there is something I figured out. Why do I feel pulled in various directions with emotion? It’s the missing of something. The missing of a childhood that was there or never was. It’s more than just letting go and moving forward about things that are in the past. It’s acknowledgment of a memory and the choice to embrace it. I feel like we can apply this to most everything in life. However, to apply it to what I am trying to explain is (and to stay on subject) is this example: I miss the toddler Lincoln who had chubby cheeks and drank vanilla milkshakes, the little boy who told me I was the ‘most beautiful grilll in the weeerld’, the little Lincoln who would hold onto my belt loop while walking through the grocery store so he wouldn’t get lost, the warm hand that used to fill the space between my fingers, the time he was 7 years old said he missed me and I could tell he meant it making my heart ache, how he made me rehearse my lines over and over again all the while he smiled, the miles of trails and paths we shared together sometimes the only sound was our feet hitting the ground like a cadence, how he ramped up a curb and directly into a shrub when he was first learning how to drive while I yelled, ‘BRAKE!!!’, the time he told me he thought he’d never find a girl friend and I assured him that it’s not about if or when, instead it’s that it will happen.
Later that year he did. ‘Do you love her?’ Without skipping a beat, ‘Yes, I do.’ Then he proposed to her assuring me that he loved her heart and soul.
He called me to tell me they were pregnant.
In the grieving of the past that is no longer, I choose to identify the aches and turn them into celebrating the joy. I figured out the key to how I can celebrate the goodness in life changing transitions. The aches do not always equal something bad! There is so much happiness in the heartaches of looking back. Those very things attribute to the man that Lincoln is today. Once I understood that concept, incredible things settled more comfortably into place.
So, I asked him on Monday, ‘When you saw Violet for the first time did you love her?’ He replied, ‘Yes, but I already loved her before she was even born.’
I love the man that Lincoln is choosing to be and simultaneously I can still love the little boy who I held in my arms and kissed upon his cheek for the first time.
All I can share now is this:
You are loved.