Dear Sonzee,
I am sorry I am late writing to you. I feel like this past week was one of those filled with so much chaos but yet in the end, there was an overwhelming sense of peace. Bear Pines is officially open for business. I say it with italics because we have our first guests staying next week, but the website is not 100% ready for sharing. Aba and I spent 5 hours together finishing everything up this past Sunday. The painting portion hadn't even been started, so Aba is going to drive up before Rosh Hashana starts to see it in person and bring back the 3 loads of bedding laundry I ran out of time doing that I brought back to Phoenix. (I am really pushing hard here for a new washing machine...he hasn't exactly taken the bait yet, but I sense it could be on the horizon).
It feels amazing to have checked off essentially all of the items on the inspection report. We also took down the eyesore of a shed in the backyard and it will be converted into a playhouse for your siblings. It is close to 500 square feet, so it is almost a mini house itself. I will be purchasing a matching wind chime for their porch in your honor. I mentioned to a friend I would most likely cry when everything was all finished, and as I took a look around Sunday I did just that. There are just so many emotions. I know you are with me when we are there. You influenced literally every nook and cranny, and yet this house wouldn't be ours if you were still here. It is so difficult to put into words everything that is my mind regarding that simple fact.
I am on week 6 of direct therapy this week and during the entire virtual school year, not one kiddo on my caseload had seized during a session, until yesterday. Just about every single child I saw yesterday, did. I don't know what to make of it. I mean essentially absolutely nothing because it had nothing to do with me, but I did joke with Auntie A that since I was in your bedroom for all my virtual sessions, you wanted to ensure I remembered how that was you all the time. I didn't even know how to feel...my heart breaks for every single parent, and all of the kids. I wanted to scream through the screen how I can relate to whatever they are feeling, I still have this need to say "ME, OVER HERE, I GET IT, MY DAUGHTER DID THIS ALL THE TIME. I LIVED THIS LIFE, I WAS ONCE IN YOUR COMMUNITY." Instead, I just stare blank-faced, wondering if at some point I will have to suddenly turn off my screen because it reminds me too much of that life, the one I am for all intents and purposes, not really part of anymore.
On that note, I emailed one of your doctors today to say I missed her. Weird huh? I had composed an email so many times, but always deleted it, today I finally pressed send. It's so hard to have not only lost you but lost so much of the life we lived for close to 5 years. Close to 5 years that were literally an entire lifetime for you, but for us just a small but yet large portion. These doctors were intimately attached to us and knew us on levels that some of our friends won't ever. To have lost our frequent visits feels like adding salt to an open wound. It seems I am still trying to figure out my place, I think that is going to be an always, forever, and from now on sort of a deal. I received a reply within an hour (I am honestly not one bit surprised), shared it with aba, but I can't reply. I tell myself it's because it feels almost awkward to reply so quickly, but I think the reality is that I am stringing it out so the conversation lasts another day?
Someone asked on Facebook last night about doing the clay hand molding. I was so excited to share our experience, I even included the 39-second video pop-pop took for the comedy. Of course, that resulted in me watching those 39 seconds on repeat for over an hour. It was just 4 days shy of us officially having to say goodbye, but looking back at it, it was such a fantastic experience and will always be such a great memory. The screaming, the laughing, your siblings being absolutely ridiculous, you being a fairly decent sport considering, your entire life and our life with you captured perfectly in 39 seconds. Although, I do wish pop-pop kept the camera rolling...there were definitely some gems of verbal exchanges that occurred only after it was shut off...but I am so grateful for what he did record.
Anyway my love. My heart misses you beyond words. I hope you can feel that and the love from down here wherever you may be. I hope wherever you are is treating you better than we ever could. Until next week.
Love always,
Ema
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