For those of you that follow me and my family’s life here on social media, you’ve probably noticed a striking lack of posts about Lydia throughout this calendar year. Well, there’s a reason for that.
We haven’t seen Lydia since January 13th. She decided to leave our family and go out on her own. She hasn’t been in contact with us since.
I haven’t talked about it publicly or discussed it openly mostly out of respect for her, with the hopes that she would reach out to us at some point. But I also haven’t mentioned it because of how sensitive I am about the whole situation. It’s made me feel insecure. Embarrassed, too, I suppose. It was also deeply hurtful to me, to Sarah, and very confusing for Micah and Ezra.
Social media is weird in this way. So many people know so much about us, follow along with us from afar. And then when something deeply personal happens we have to make decisions about what we share and what we don’t. Who deserves information, who doesn’t? What is over-sharing, what isn’t? But I try to use social media in ways that are genuine, both the good and the difficult, so that’s why I’ll go ahead and write about this today.
This situation has felt so surreal for us. And it’s been hard for me. It’s tormented my dreams like nothing else has in my life. I’ve had to field tough questions from the boys about the situation. And I don’t really have answers, mostly just a broken heart. I’ve noticed I’m more sensitive to the emotional and relational situations with our Boys Town kids these days, too.
This was a risk going in, I suppose. I do replay lots of conversations and talks with Lydia in my head, in my dreams, too. At the end of the day, I have learned to just live with the reality of what has happened. Accept it for what it is. There’s not much else I can do.
It was just a year ago that I made some really wonderful memories with her when we visited Chicago together. Some of my favorite memories of my adult life were made with her while we were there. And when she left us in January it also left me with lots of questions about those times together. What was real? What wasn’t? It’s painful to even think about.
There’s a part of me that has been forever broken by the situation, I think. I’ve felt more vulnerable, more sensitive, more insecure this year than ever before. There’s such a feeling of “It’s not supposed to be this way!” to this whole ordeal. Some days I’m mad. Some days I’m sad. Some days I’m confused. Some days numb. Some days I’m heavy in a way that I don’t have a word for. It’s a very odd sense of grief.
Today is her 20th birthday. Most of her 19th year was spent away from us. A year we’ll never get back. A year of no memories together. And we aren’t able to celebrate this day with her, either.
Around this time last year I remember being intentional about soaking in the goodness my life. I often fight feelings of “this seems too good to be true” when things are going well. This situation has not helped that. But I do remember trying to soak in the goodness of these days last year. I remember often saying “These are the good ol’ days!” and “This is the good stuff!” And they were. That’s true. I just didn’t know how true it was. (But sometimes I wonder, maybe I did?)
The photos on this post are from our trip to Chicago. We explored the city together and we had a blast. We rode on the ferris wheel, and my heart spun in circles of joy. We saw the Bean, and the reflections are not so different than how my heart feels these days.
Living with loss of any kind is hard. I used to think the permanency of loss was one of the hardest aspects of any grief. But I’ve now learned that the grief from any kind of loss is difficult. The ambiguity of whether a loss is a forever loss is extremely hard, too. It’s expanded my empathy for others, though — for other parents who have had hard relationships with their children, for those in relationships who have experienced the grief of an unwanted divorce, for those who have strained relationships with friends or family members they wish were not so.
All the more reason to live into the moments of each day. Appreciate them for what they are. Don’t take anything for granted. The grace of a normal day is immeasurable. Don’t forget that.
I do write all this with the knowledge that it’s possible this makes its way to Lydia somehow. So, Lydia, if you’re reading this, Happy 20th birthday. We love you. We miss you.
Stepping Back 