Where will I start today? We have been living without our Peanut for almost 17 months. That is almost 18 months, which is a huge number. 18 months is a year and a half - 18 months is almost 24 months is 2 years. And how is it possible that our hearts have continued to beat for 17 months without Emily in our lives? I thought for sure I would die long ago.
I still notice people avoid me in certain situations. People I haven't seen since before Emily died, they certainly don't want to have to have the conversation with me. People I rarely see, they certainly don't want to ask how I am doing in case I am not "over it yet". I get this all. I understand how the conversation might be uncomfortable. And to be honest? I am perfectly fine with us passing each other in the aisle of the grocery store and looking at stuff on the shelves, to pretend we didn't recognize or notice one another. It's fine. You think *I* want the conversation?
Oh wait - I know what it is. If you mention Emily, it will "remind" me of her death. Because, you know, I forget so often.
Snarkiness aside, there is not a day - not an hour - not very many minutes that go by without a thought of Emily in my mind. Everything in the house is Emily (and of course, Jacob). Her pictures are up everywhere. Hello Kitty is still rampant in our house. My master bedroom is bright pink still, from when it was her room. She needed it, with her trach and oxygen and all her supplies. There is still a Hello Kitty piñata hanging in one corner, and Hello Kitty window clings on the closet door.
It's like learning to live with an amputated leg. The initial pain and shock wears off, but the lasting pain and affects will never go away. How do you learn to walk without a leg? How do you learn to go to sleep at night, without being able to kiss your baby girl? How do you shop for back to school supplies for your son, while wishing so much that you were doing the same for your daughter?
Life is difficult. I am living, and I am thriving. I am taking care of myself finally, for the first time in years and years. I have lost 67 pounds in the last 7 months. I got a part-time job. I exercise. I go out with girlfriends. I drink beer and (after enough beers) have a few cigarettes here and there. But there is always bedtime. And bedtime is when the mind doesn't let you distract it. Bedtime is when grief can slam into you like a ton of bricks. Bedtime is when the day that you were just thinking "was a really good day", turns into another night of missing your baby girl.
And balancing all these emotions is so, so hard. So today I am grateful that my sweet boy is starting 8th grade tomorrow. Today I am grateful that it is Tuesday, because that means I can go to my Bereaved Parents group. And tonight when I lay my head down on my pillow? I will be Emily's mommy .... missing her with every beat of my heart. You know, the heart that has somehow continued to beat .....
