The only time I am not crying is when I am with other people. .. With Tony and the kids though I cannot seem to stop the tears.
Everything is reminding me of her.. everything is ripping into the wound I keep waiting to start healing.
right now I don’t think it ever will. right now I feel like my sorrow is so much bigger than I am .
We went to the Chargers/49ers game this weekend with some friends. Tony is a Chargers fan so they thought we would like it. We were very excited. Charlotte stayed with my parents and the boys with one of my brothers families. I had forgotten until I started getting dressed in my jersey.. forgotten we had taken her to a game once. A pre-season game just like this one and a neighbor gifted us her tickets. That time Tony held her.. this time he wore her name on the back of the jersey.
We had a great time. Talked about all sorts of things.. and talked about her. About the time I took her to a port-a-potty and she was so freaked out and peed all over us both. Its little memories like that I so enjoy coming back to me unexpectedly.. and having somebody that is open to hear the memory shared aloud.
A dragonfly followed us through the parking lot and a butterfly nearly landed on us in the stadium. .. I hope so big.. I hope so much.. much more than I want to want it.. I wished for it to really be her trying to connect.
We went to get our boys afterwards and were invited to stay for dinner. In the middle of the meal it hit me how we shouldn’t have been there. How not so long ago we could never randomly stay somewhere for a meal because we would have had to prepared for her food.
I used to feel like it was so hard to have a celiac kid. To not be able to just change plans suddenly. It was a hardship in my life that I had no idea was actually a privilege until it was too late.
Being her mom was a gift..
What I wouldn’t give to have to turn down meal invitations again.. Because it would simply mean I got to take care of her again.
This morning in Charlottes room I went through the hair stuff bag I had stuffed full of all of their things from our time at Stanford. She died so shortly after treatment we never unpacked it .. and now I keep it in baby Charlottes room with both of my girls hair ties and clips and headbands.
Today it hit me feeling them in my hands. The matching ones we got for them to wear at the same time that they never got to. ..the ones that Jennifer wore for school so often for those few weeks I got to be mom to a kindergartner. I cried.. I bite down on knuckles with one hand and clutched her headband with the other.
I looked up as tears fell and wailed as silently as I could.
I heard my 3 other blessings running up and down the hallway together laughing .. filling these walls with a joy I longed to feel. I am so grateful to have them.. each so unique and so perfect. They are my reason for getting up each morning and Tony is my strength to actually be able to do it.
I am thankful for them.. beyond words for these lives I am lucky enough to touch. Still I yearn for the one my arms ache for.. Right now the empty is louder than the full in my ears.
I am ashamed…because I know better.. but I can’t seem to change the station right now.
Then we went shopping for Tony’s birthday. I am not crafty or even very creative but I try. I try to have the kids do something fun for him each year. .. I walked into the craft store hoping something would come to me.. and what did was the hot strike of her absence. .I felt like I was burning. I called my bereaved mom friend.. should I also call her the most unwanted mentor of all times? To ask how she did stuff for her husband.
I don’t want to get so stuck on the loss of one .. our very first.. that I don’t do things with the remaining. In many ways I am a better mom now than I was before. I know it.. I hate it.. but I own it.. Not this way though. The fear of her not being included makes me freeze up. I have to take a non-creative mind and be extra creative to include her.
My friend gave me advice and understanding. .. we shared pain and struggle.. Then talked about houses. . because thats what this life is.
It is normalcy in the midst of desperate sorrow.
It is tears over the handprints I can never make again interspersed with what kind of flooring to choose.
I am thankful -so damn thankful- to have somebody who truly gets that. .. while simultaneously so resentful that I do too.
I love you Jennifer. If I could be with you again.. just for a moment .. that’s what I would say.
…until there is a cure…