I love you, baby girl. I'll see you again.
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.
I think I might actually be getting a slight suntan. Or burn. Or maybe it's just that I'm developing some freckles from being in the sun. Either way, it's better than that glow in the dark with a greenish cast skin I usually have hiding under my clothes. Seriously. They could use my skin as reflectors for bicycles.
Today was a lazy day. Edits are finished and I have a new book coming out next month. Two more in the works, and one clanging around inside my head clamoring for some substance. It's what I do. I write.
The last two winters have been filled with sorrow and horror, and I haven't exactly been pounding out the stories. But I have grown. I'd rather not have been forced to, actually, but there you go. Changes happen and we can either go along and learn and grow, or we can swim in bitterness, anger, and hopelessness until we die.
Sometimes I don't know how I keep going. Sometimes I want to crawl into a dark corner of my mind and curl up with my thumb in my mouth. But I'm here. I'm still breathing, and I still have hope.
Good for me.
I visited my baby's grave today. I hadn't been able to before now, but now that I have, I will go up there a lot. I'm going to plant flowers and make it pretty. I took up balloons and an angel, and tied the balloons to the angel. God, how I miss her. Every little thing about her, I miss.
It didn't get quite as warm and sunny as predicted, but it was nice anyway. I wore my coat out, and the cloud were huge, fluffy ones. I watched them. When I was sixteen-and this will sound slightly crazy-I saw things in the clouds. Maybe I already wrote about it. But I saw things. Not just your ordinary, hey, what is that cloud shaped like? type thing, but honest to goodness, straight up, clear faces. And things. Now I look a lot, because what if that happened back then to make me want to look now? I don't want to miss it, if there's a message there from my baby. Or my brothers. Or my God.
So, crazy or not, I look.
I did make a list of things to do today, so I wouldn't just lie on the bed in a slightly numb lump, staring at the TV. Sometimes it's like so many thoughts are running through my mind at once, so many things I need to do or think about that I end up doing nothing because I can't decide where to start. Maybe that's a side effect of grief.
The list was a way to get organized, but I still didn't finish everything on it. I did edit, I did do laundry, and I did knit. Other than that, I didn't do much. Still, the day went reasonably quickly.
It's strange how difficult it is to keep my thoughts straight. Earlier I was thinking, I can't wait to feel better. I can't wait to start enjoying life. I can't wait for an entire day to go by when I don't hurt. But right on the heels of that, I thought, no, that day can never come. It shouldn't. Like, I felt if I went a day without suffering, or enjoyed the day, that would seem as though I no longer cared about her, or...I don't know. It's strange. I am not thinking real straight just yet.
I've lost so many people in the last few years, it's overwhelming. And losing them in such bad ways. Murder, illness that was so shockingly quick there was no time to prepare, if there is such a thing. Of course, there is never a good way of losing someone, I'm sure. But there are bad ways and there are worse ways.
Still, when it's over, they're gone, no matter how they go. And we're left here, trying to figure out how to go on living, breathing. How to be someone we no longer recognize because the whole world has changed. How to live with pain that never takes pity and never eases up for a moment.
But I understand, I really, really do, that we wake up one morning and realize the sun is shining. That we came through something that ripped us up one side and down the other, and we're okay. Not the same as we were, not by a long shot, but okay. I hold on to that.
So I didn't come back last night after all. I'm not even sure why not. I'm too lazy to try to remember. I didn't even write yesterday's Good Thing. I will write two good things tonight to make up for it, if I can think of two. I mean, I could think of two good things like, I'm not blind, I'm not homeless, I don't have cancer, I'm not alone. All those things are good. Good that I don't have them or...you know what I mean. But as far as good things that actually happened today? I don't know. I'll think about it for my Good Things post.
I'm watching You've Got Mail again, because it makes me feel good. There's a good thing, yes? I realized that Callie (Sara Ramirez) from Grey's Anatomy is the pain in the ass Rose, the cash-only-line checkout woman in You've Got Mail. Isn't that funny? I do like her on Grey's.
Lost, the final season, is on tonight. I won't be watching it, though. Nope. I love Lost, enough that I can't stand watching it from week to week. I'll get it on DVD when it comes out, so I can watch the shows back to back without having to wait a week. I'm sure I wrote about this in one of my previous posts.
Can you tell I don't really want to write about anything serious? Like the fact that I didn't do edits again today, or that I barely managed to move from my bed. That yesterday I was determined today I would exercise, but I didn't. Or that I'm having money troubles. Or that I no longer even know who I am. I was her mommy a few weeks ago. Her caregiver, the person who loved her most in the world, and I knew exactly what I was supposed to be doing and who I was. I don't have a clue now.
But I don't want to talk about, or think about, the heavy stuff. I just want to bury myself in movies and forget.
And eat. And knit drawstring bags. Maybe a nice cotton washcloth or two.
Everything's going to be all right.
Did you know that ostriches don't really bury their heads in the sand?
I did edit a little today on my contracted ms. Also heard back from another publisher stating they would get back to me in March concerning a book I'd submitted to them in November. I need to write. I do hope I get the desire back. You'd think writing would be the one thing I could do, that I would want to do, to lose myself in.
This is where I have to remind myself that it's okay to take some time. I'm allowed to take some time. So I can't write right now. So what? Don't worry about it. I'll get it back.
And one of the most important things I can tell myself right now; It'll be okay.
I've convinced myself I'm ready to do the work I've been putting off. I have contracts and can't put it off forever. I opened up Word and just looked at the MS. I wrote my editor and told her I'm beginning revisions. And then I just looked at the requested revisions, overwhelmed.
I have no interest in writing, in doing revisions, in anything that I have to do. I walk around the house and find little things to do, having worn myself out in the early days cleaning from top to bottom.
The pantry was reorganized and cleaned, the cabinets emptied of contents that really should have been thrown out long ago. The floors were mopped and swept and the closets cleaned, clothes I knew I'd never wear boxed up to be given away.
I can't go near her room, though. I'm not ready for that.
Some books I ordered came today, I found them out on the front stoop when I got up today. Books about near death experiences, about finding the purpose of one's life, about death and dying.
I watch a little tennis, read a little, eat a little. My eyes wander to her pictures on my bedroom wall and I look away again, quickly. It hurts too much to look at her pictures.
I try to force my mind to other things when it dwells on what she went through, the pain I couldn't save her from. I rage silently at the doctors and nurses for the procedures that did nothing other than cause her more pain.
But through it all, I try to remember what I believe in. She's waiting for me, happy. She's forgotten her pain. She's surrounded by great things that we can't even imagine. I will see her again, be with her again, hold her again.
I know, logically, that there's no real hurry. I need to take my time, at least take a year, to think about things, to heal. But for some reason, I feel such urgency, like I need to do everything right now.
Maybe it's because every time I stop for a minute, scary thoughts creep in. Fear and overwhelming realization that she's gone. She's really, really gone, and everything is different. I'm different.
Who am I, now? What am I supposed to do? What am I meant to do?
And I miss her. God, I miss her so, so much. I try to make myself think about her in the life that comes after, playing and happier than she's ever been. I think she understands everything now, she knows the time will come when I'm with her once again. If she could come back, she wouldn't. She's too happy where she is.
And time is different, there. In the blink of an eye, I'll be there. I can't wait. I really can't wait.
I haven't feared or dreaded death since the first tragedy, or the second tragedy. Now with this third awful thing, I actually look forward to it. Sometimes I feel so anxious, so impatient to go, but I know it's not my time. When it is, I'll go. I can't make myself go. There are people here who need me. Besides, there might be things I have to do, things I'm meant to do, before I can go.
This is what I tell myself, and it gets me through the day. These are my beliefs.