Friday, June 5, 2020

Life goes on?

It’s been 2 days past the 4 months mark since she’s been gone.  Her large red ppod has remained on its frame in our master bedroom.  The toy bar and tray table have been collecting dust resting under our bed.  Earlier this week Sam decided that he wanted someone specifically to have her chair.  We originally were going to donate it to her school for multiple children to use during the day, but he decided that wasn’t doing the chair justice, or maybe her memory? I am unsure exactly, but I know for me as long as someone has her chair, I am okay with that.  I knew whom to reach out to about the chair and in a little bit today she will be on her way over to the house.  I took a final picture of it in our room just in the case it’s gone by the time I come home from visiting Sonzee, which is where I am currently at.

This morning her big siblings had their end of the year school count down and official start of summer ceremony on zoom.  I don’t know why it took the ceremony for me to process that this coming year is our oldest’s last year of elementary school.  Her brother follows behind her entering into 4th and then our 3rd is entering into 2nd.  Sonzee would have entered into Kindergarten and in two different lives I have a good idea of who her teachers would have been and it makes me cry.  It all makes me cry.  Life makes me cry.  I can’t seem to not cry. The days are turning into months which turn into years and they are going to continue to move quickly, without her here, without her moving past the 2nd week of her 2nd semester of her last year of preschool.  Gosh this is hard.  Her brother in 3 more years will be beyond where she ever got to be, and that’s not really even true because where he is at currently developmentally is far beyond where she ever was.  Sometimes I don’t know what I mourn more.

I sit here now, (by her? With her? Near hear?), glancing at a pile of various rocks, some that indicate events and milestones that are just representations of the life she is missing.  Everything she misses now becomes a rock placed by her to acknowledge what she should be doing or have done. I wish so much that things were different despite knowing what that would even mean for her or for our family. I can’t imagine a worse fate than where we currently are, so I think it’s a safe wish? But would that have meant never having her? I can’t really imagine that, but sometimes it feels like it was all just a quick dream.  Pictures represent life before she was here and pictures now represent life without her and in the middle was a life that was full of struggles and what felt like days and moments that would never end...but they eventually did and now all we have are the memories and this insane love that makes a wish for anything different seem almost wrong?

The Mighty Contributor

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