Right Where I Am Project ..22 months and 5 days.5:47 am
Thanks to Angie for initiating this project. Read more here.
Twenty Two months and five days.
I miss her.
I think of her a million times a day, I'm still half expecting her to come back to me.I still can't quite grasp that forever is forever.
That's the bare bones of it, but that's not everything.
Mostly it's a good life, Woody and the children anchor me to this life, and there is joy,pure joy. Not something I ever thought there could be again.
"The deeper sorrow carves into your being the more joy you can contain."
I remember reading these words on the blog of a friend shortly after Florence died, and another friend reminded me of them again recently. As time goes by they have more and more meaning.
What I've come to realise lately is that there will always be good days and bad days. I will always miss her, my grief for her will always be a part of me, just as my love for her is.
There will always be unexpected triggers in my daily life, but these days they don't always make me cry, sometimes I can smile.
A sunbeam will prompt me to whisper "Is that you love?" and I might feel a moment of warmth.
I feel her with me, so much so, that I'm baffled when others don't see her. Walking to school with the boys, she's there toddling along beside me. In the evenings as I snuggle Ernest down to sleep, I can imagine her lying right there with us, or lately toddling off to the garden with Woody to say goodnight to the chickens.
Yesterday, Woody and I took the boys out to an aquarium for the day. The girls were at school. We felt very strange with just three children with us, but at the same time, it was nice to do something with just the boys.
And then my eye catches a little girl in the cafe, about two years old, her wisps of wavy hair pinned back from her eyes, holding on to her Daddy's hand, and waving to the fish....it's a kick in the guts...she's missing.
Just moments later, another little girl, this time in a wheelchair, severely disabled, her Daddy showing her some little toys from the gift shop, and I feel like the universe is forcing me to see that I don't know what I'm missing. Had Florence survived would that be her life? We'll never know.
Forever is forever, and we'll never know why. We'll never know why her lungs filled with blood and not air. Why she had to leave us....
Damn! I wanted to write something hopeful for those finding their way here soon after their losses, and here I am heading down that same pathway, the one I've gone over and over a million times.
It's complicated this life without her, sometimes I feel there are shadows of myself in different lives, all stemming back to 22nd July 2009. There is a huge part of me still there, willing her to live, hoping for a different outcome, and then I'm here. I see a different me in the mirror, an older, darker, sadder me.
I just miss her. x