Today. Hmm. What to say about today.
I am less hurt today than I was yesterday. At least parts of today I was less hurt than yesterday. I kept flashing on that beautiful, special little face while wasting the Sunday in a store, wandering around. I should have been home writing, but these days, staying home isn't high on my list of good things to do. It's too familiar. There are too many memories.
Every I look around I see her pictures, her toys, her ensure, pampers...so many memories. I can't figure out if I shouldn't push it right now, if I should hide all those things so I don't have to see them the entire time I'm home, or if I should keep looking every day, forcing myself to face reality. No matter how much it hurts. Triggers. Do I avoid them, or not? I don't know.
When both my brothers died, I couldn't look at their pictures. I couldn't look at them in their caskets. But with my girl, I did. Maybe because she was my child. Or maybe because she died in my arms, and I'd already faced it. I wanted to bring her home, but I couldn't take her across State lines; that and the fact that my family thought I'd lost my mind and I gave up. I wasn't ready to walk out of that hospital and let them come take her away.
At the funeral, I cut a lock of her hair and tied it with a ribbon. I put it in a beautiful wooden music box I was given after she died. In with that I put her obituary, and a few keepsakes such as an ornament with her name on it. I kissed her, at the funeral, and looked at her face. But I was numb then. I'm not numb now, not wrapped in disbelief. I don't ask why this happened, because I won't get the answer. I just think about seeing her again when I die. I look forward to dying, as hard as that might be to imagine. I so look forward to it. I want to go be with her. Will that pass? I don't know that either. I just know that I'll probably live for a long, long time. And I hope I'm able to enjoy life again. Because if I can't, what a miserable existence this will be, right?
I have to stop looking to the future, because right now, the future is a scary, scary place. Minute by minute, day by day. That's how I'll get through this. Or at least I'm going to try. Sometimes I have to remind myself. Don't look there, you can't really see the truth there. What's in this moment? This is where you need to be. Look into now, into this second. Pretty soon, it'll be tomorrow. And tomorrow is always going to be brighter than today.
I am less hurt today than I was yesterday. At least parts of today I was less hurt than yesterday. I kept flashing on that beautiful, special little face while wasting the Sunday in a store, wandering around. I should have been home writing, but these days, staying home isn't high on my list of good things to do. It's too familiar. There are too many memories.
Every I look around I see her pictures, her toys, her ensure, pampers...so many memories. I can't figure out if I shouldn't push it right now, if I should hide all those things so I don't have to see them the entire time I'm home, or if I should keep looking every day, forcing myself to face reality. No matter how much it hurts. Triggers. Do I avoid them, or not? I don't know.
When both my brothers died, I couldn't look at their pictures. I couldn't look at them in their caskets. But with my girl, I did. Maybe because she was my child. Or maybe because she died in my arms, and I'd already faced it. I wanted to bring her home, but I couldn't take her across State lines; that and the fact that my family thought I'd lost my mind and I gave up. I wasn't ready to walk out of that hospital and let them come take her away.
At the funeral, I cut a lock of her hair and tied it with a ribbon. I put it in a beautiful wooden music box I was given after she died. In with that I put her obituary, and a few keepsakes such as an ornament with her name on it. I kissed her, at the funeral, and looked at her face. But I was numb then. I'm not numb now, not wrapped in disbelief. I don't ask why this happened, because I won't get the answer. I just think about seeing her again when I die. I look forward to dying, as hard as that might be to imagine. I so look forward to it. I want to go be with her. Will that pass? I don't know that either. I just know that I'll probably live for a long, long time. And I hope I'm able to enjoy life again. Because if I can't, what a miserable existence this will be, right?
I have to stop looking to the future, because right now, the future is a scary, scary place. Minute by minute, day by day. That's how I'll get through this. Or at least I'm going to try. Sometimes I have to remind myself. Don't look there, you can't really see the truth there. What's in this moment? This is where you need to be. Look into now, into this second. Pretty soon, it'll be tomorrow. And tomorrow is always going to be brighter than today.
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