Space seems so scary sometimes.
In the early weeks, it felt like all I had was space suffocating me; the space Jensen was supposed to occupy. Especially when he was first-born and I only had his nursery items and all his clothes. I didn’t have any remembrance items, besides what the hospital gave me, but I couldn’t even look at his prints at first. When I moved into my house, I kept seeing where I planned on having his pack-n-play and swing. The walls were empty and all I could imagine is what his newborn pictures would look like. It was hard in those beginning weeks of creating a home that I imagined my son growing up in, without him. Then I put his big silver J up that was supposed to be in his room.
Seeing his J everyday made me smile and feel like he was where he was supposed to be. From then came his pictures, the Painted Name Project print, and the most perfect footprints all over the walls. Everywhere I look there are pieces of Jensen that belong. I turned my whole house into my sacred space. I’ve added in silver birds and elephants to represent me sending messages to Jensen and how I’m not alone in this grief. My house makes me feel safe and comfortable. Even though he’s not here, he fills our home and that couldn’t make me happier.
The space that felt so daunting in the beginning brings me so much solace now. It’s what I search for when the waves of grief are pulling me down and what I look at when they have subsided. His candles are always on, like a lighthouse, leading me to the shore.
I wouldn’t call my home a shrine to him. My house is exactly how it would be if Jensen were here, minus the amount of toys. Although there will never be any pictures that show him growing from the day he was born, I see the progression of his life when he was here and the impact of his life since he’s been gone. My sacred space is all about him, just like it would have been if he was sleeping in my arms now.
This space that seemed so scary in the beginning has become a place I can call home.