This video is from Finn’s preschool music program four years ago. Wasn’t he an adorable 4-year-old? Such a cutie, then and now.
I stumbled upon it on my Youtube channel the other day and watched all of the videos from the program.
The woman you hear laughing is my mom, who was quite tickled by Finn’s and the other children’s silly motions in the song.
But around the 1:53 mark Finn falls down and you hear male laughter.
Watching this video the other day was the first time that I had heard his laugh since his death.
His laugh was a very distinctive chuckle — you hear it again around 1:58 and 2:18. I hear it and I can picture how his face looked when he laughed like that.
In GriefShare they call those “ambush moments.” They are moments that you don’t see coming, when you’re in another world doing something that totally doesn’t seem related to the death or to grief, and then wham! something causes grief to hit you.
In this week’s GriefShare video a woman told a story about one of her ambush moments that came many years after losing her child. On a family calendar she kept up with her children’s activities by placing their initials next to the event belonging to each child. Years later, one of her grandchildren had the same initials as the child she lost, and it was as she was writing on her calendar an event for her grandchild, using the same initials she had used years ago for that deceased child, that the sorrow and grief of her loss struck again, and she cried.
Grief is like ocean waves, I’ve been told, where there is calm and then waves come, sometimes big waves and sometimes small ones. Sometimes ones that knock you off your feet, and sometimes ones that lap at your toes.