Dear Sonzee,
Today was just one of those days. The one where life continued to get in the way and I didn't have a chance to sit down and write to you, and then, something insignificant set me into a tailspin. In the last 2.5 hours, I have found myself rating a nonhuman shipping representative on the phone as a 1 for not giving me any form of assistance (in my defense I didn't ask to complete that survey), writing a nasty email that Hashem obviously felt I should rethink because the screen turned white and then vanished as I was trying to hit send, crying and being horrible angry over a shipment going to the wrong house, and having a meltdown because cabinet locks were not locking. I know my emotions have nothing at all to do with any of the items listed above and everything to do with it being a Monday night grief group evening, it being another week without you, and it now, officially, being less than a month until a year has passed since you were here, and additionally it is a month away from the anniversary of your funeral.
I tell myself my emotions are appropriate for the "big picture", but then am beyond thankful for me hiding away in a cul-de-sac in Flagstaff so I can just hole up here and pretend life isn't what it is. Gosh, some days are really truly indescribably bad, do you ever have those days missing us? Does it at all work that way wherever you are? I sometimes find myself thinking my heart couldn't break more, that the pain couldn't get worse, but then, it can and it does. Sometimes the grief eerily resembles so much of the challenges we faced with you here...I eventually got to a point where I stopped thinking things couldn't get worse or that something would change or that maybe it wouldn't get that bad...maybe one day I will reach that point with my grief. Maybe I will eventually throw my hands up into the wind and ride the rollercoaster knowing the wheels are going to fall off the track and that no amount of harness support is going to keep me safe and no amount of padding to make the landing soft or pleasant. The last time I truly did that we know how it ended, so really, I am afraid to ask, but can it really ever be worse than that?
The thought that this is lasting forever sometimes feels like a fresh punch into my chest. I feel like I need to always be in reach of your oxygen tank for these moments because I am sure if my stats were being taken my oxygen would be well below 90. It is literally difficult to take in deep breaths and I have to almost concentrate extra hard to ensure I keep breathing. It resembles labor and delivery, except there is someone there reminding you to breathe, and eventually your reward is a little tiny life to snuggle into. In this case, I am sitting at a table, alone, in the middle of the night, missing you horribly, and unable to stop the tears and pain resting deep in my heart, with our last snuggle being over 11 months ago.
If I could be so blunt baby girl, I could really use a visit or sign from you over the next few weeks. If you could pull something off, maybe it would be enough to get me through another year without you?! I miss you and love you so much!
Until next time.
Love always,
Ema
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