A couple of days ago I went back up to visit my daughter's grave. I find it really difficult to leave once I get there, as though her soul is hanging out there in need of company. Or maybe it's just for me. I wish I'd have buried her in my yard so that I could be closer, could go out each night and talk to her. I know I can do that without the grave. I do talk to her. A lot.

Her headstone was finally installed recently. It's heart-shaped. I probably told you that in a previous post.

I've been doing better. One day at a time. Also I keep telling myself that she's happy, and with God. Every time I start to panic, to feel overwhelming pain, I take a minute to say it to myself. She's with God. And I'm in His hands as well. It helps me feel better.

Still, I get sad. When I go to sit in the yard I think of how much she used to love sitting outside in her wheelchair. She loved tossing the ball out there. Every time she'd hear a lawnmower or loud car, she'd cover her ears and wait for me to make it stop. :)

I'm writing, quite a bit. School starts on the 20th of this month and I need to get in as much writing as possible before I have to slow down for classes.
I'm pretty sure I came close to losing my mind, and I doubt it's over yet. I'm sure there will be hard times ahead. But...last night I decided to turn myself, and my pain, over to God. I put myself in his hands. I decided to trust him. He'll take care of my little girl. She's with him. I'm his, and she's his. There are things I can't possibly understand, and I know that. Faith. I have faith.

I love you, baby girl. I'll see you again.
No one wants to hear it. They want to think it's okay, that I'm okay. But I'm not. Why is it hurting more instead of less? Why does it tear me apart to think of her? Why do I miss her so very much, and why, no matter how much I try to think of her in heaven, pain-free, happy, and waiting for me, does it still make me want to die because of the pain? When, when is it going to be better? When?
Yesterday was release day for my latest book. The day was a busy one, and I should take a small break from writing now that this book is out, but I'm not. I started on a new one recently, and it's coming along well. I don't want to jinx it by stopping :)

I'll begin classes next month; a biology, a medical terminology, and a computer class are all I've registered for so far, but I'd like to add one more. I just haven't decided what yet.

It's good to stay busy.
My dog is probably the smartest dog ever born. Seriously. (And no, her name is NOT Fido;) )

It's not just that she learns everything so quickly, but she also has a sensitivity to my emotions. And she's just downright hilarious. I think I found her because it was meant to be.

When I got her, it was raining and she was in a huge fenced in, muddy, disgusting yard with a lot of other dogs. She was hiding in a box, trying to keep warm and dry, I'm sure.

The breeder dragged her from the box and brought her into an under construction building so I could check her out. She was small, scared, and though I didn't know it then, very, very sick.

My ex husband went with me to see the dogs, which I'd seen in the paper for fifty bucks each. I asked the breeder's husband why so inexpensive, and he explained that while he told his wife it was a bad idea to price them so cheap, they needed to sell them because they'd gotten these dogs when the other breeder had gone out of business and they'd purchased all her stuff.

They actually bred and sold a whole different type of dog.

I didn't care that her nose was practically hitting the floor or that she wouldn't come when I called her. She tried to lean against the breeder and hide, or rest. The breeder told me she was generally very friendly, but that she was just being a little shy. Right.

Anyway, I fell in love with her right then and there, and my ex-husband put her in the car for the short ride home.

She was completely terrified of the car, and I've never been able to get her to enjoy a nice little ride since I've had her.

I got her home and the first place she wanted to go was straight to my daughter, who was lying in the floor on a futon mattress, waiting, waiting to see her new doggy. They bonded immediately. This dog was the first one we'd ever had that was so perfect for my little girl.

A few hours later when we put her in her kennel and we all went to bed, our new dog began throwing up. The next morning we took her to the vet, and discovered that the poor thing had Parvo.

The breeder gave me my money back, and offered to take the dog from the vet and care for her, but I refused. No, this was our dog now, and though I was furious with the breeder for being so careless as to sell a dog with parvo.

How my little dog must have suffered, there in that filthy, muddy open...field, of sorts, all sick and wet and cold.

The vet said he wasn't sure she could be saved. He said that if we hadn't brought her in when we did, she would have died in a few more hours.

We had to leave her there, in the animal hospital, and we came home and worried, and cried. How on earth had we become so attached to this little dog already? It stunned us. But we were attached, no doubt about it. We'd found our perfect little dog, and had fallen in love.

The week she was in the hospital we visited her, taking her cards and taping them her cage, taking her a little pooh bear with my daughter's scent on it, and just letting her know she now had people who loved her and cared about her, and were waiting for her to get better.

And she did. On our last visit there, we walked in and she actually recognized us and stood up and gave a happy bark! I was amazed and asked the tech, was that her barking? I'd never heard her bark before.

The tech let her out and she ran straight for us, and has been happy and healthy ever since.

If I hadn't gone to that place and picked her for my family, she would have died. I honestly believe she was meant for us. And we were meant for her. She made my daughter happy. She makes us happy.
I left my hometown a few years ago and moved to another small town. This one, however, is huge and bustling compared with where I grew up. And it's only a few minutes away.

My hometown holds the family cemetery, which is where my little girl is buried. I went there today, and took photos of the scenery. It's beautiful, just very lonely, that town.
Do you play Words With Friends on your iTouch or iPhone? I like that you can put a word in and then go back an hour or a day or a week later and play again. It's fun.

I'm watching Kirstie Alley's show on A&E. I don't know why it entertains me so much, maybe just getting lost in someone's world and forgetting mine for a little while.

Still writing on the new book, but it's going slowly. Sometimes they take off like they're on fire, and sometimes, I don't really pick up the pace until a lot of words in. I'm also editing a manuscript for a friend, but not nearly quickly enough.

Tomorrow I'm going to visit the cemetery. I hope they've put in the headstone by now. When I go up there, it's sad to see the number of family members we've buried. My brothers, my sister-in-law, my niece, my daughter...

My girl is the roughest on me, of course. I miss them all, but when she went, most of me went with her. Now I feel like I'm just waiting, and waiting anxiously, for my time to come so I can go be with her. I'm not sure if that's normal or not. I don't know how long I'll feel this way. Maybe I will until I die. That's a scary thought.

I know I have to do things to get me out of my own head, out of my own sorrow. I've signed up for classes for the upcoming semester at the university. I'm going to apply to the athletic trainer program. Athletic trainers, for those of you who don't know, are the people who take care of the athletes when they hurt themselves, who try to prevent injuries, etc.

I loved the health field before my daughter's stay in the hospital; after that I couldn't stand it. Everything made me remember what she went through. The athletic trainer program has the medical work I love, but it's not taking blood and dealing with sick people or seeing the poor little hurt children. This, I can handle.

I'll probably shadow a trainer one day soon, to get a better handle on what they do. I'm pretty sure this is what I want. Now if they'll just accept me into the program...
I went downtown this morning for an appointment, then came home and wrote. It was a great day for it, all cool and raining and dark.

I love being outside, sitting on the deck with my feet up, but those bumblebees and wasps are making it difficult to enjoy the sun. I'm afraid of bees and spiders. Okay, afraid might be an understatement.

They seem to sense this and are always around! Paranoid who, me?? Nah!
The sun is still here, bright and hot, and my arms and legs have taken on a nice...reddish cast. I'm still burning, but no nice even tan. Maybe I just can't tan. I don't know. I just know it feels good in the sun. It makes me feel good.

I wonder if Celexa is making me gain weight.