Dear Sonzee,
It has been 9 Mondays since I last wrote you a letter, but just 5 Mondays since I last wrote a blog. Maybe I should clarify, since I last wrote a blog out of my mind, one that I felt I needed to get out of my mind or the words would could continue to crash around all muddled. I suppose it is only fitting for the situation I find myself in.
For weeks I have been experiencing all sorts of new "life after you" situations that didn't seem to phase me. Maybe it was less that they didn't phase me, but more that I didn't quite know how to handle them? I felt that maybe this was just part of the whole time is passing me by concept. Maybe, just maybe, this is what everyone refers to as "moving forward". Dare I say that it felt almost like hope. That alone should have told me better. Life was moving forward at lightning speed, you were coming along for the ride right along with me, I felt it. I knew it. I wrote to you so many times in my mind, but in the end, I didn't need to get the words out for anyone else, they were just there, for me, for you. I felt like that was progress, maybe it still is? was?
Your siblings have kept us beyond active in this everyday hustle and bustle of the life you left behind. I enjoy the speed because it makes time easier to handle. I have found myself talking about you to anyone who will listen, and maybe even some who wish I wouldn't. I have thought to myself how much easier the talking about you part has been during year 3+. I shared that and some other positives with Corrinne's mom recently. She too is living in a universe unlike the one she and I ever knew together. Maybe we are both avoiding the alternative reality? Maybe it is the only way to cope? Either way, it seemed celebratory.
Halloween at FBC came and went, your sister's first gymnastics season is about to be in the books, with the remnants of medals and new equipment in our house to prepare for her next one. Your oldest brother has had a few tournaments come and go, I am almost finished needlepointing Tzviki's tallis bag, and our house is experiencing cold/flu/virus "PCH restriction" season with little concern except for how it might affect the outcome of your siblings and their sporting events. An inner chuckle and nod to this "life after you" (still feels new reality) is what I offer, but really a solid 10 minutes of hysterical laughter would probably be better suited. In the words of Cher from Clueless, "As if".
I took pumpkins home from school a few weeks ago for your siblings to decorate, one for each of us. It took a conversation with Meena who was arguing over Noam painting two for me to realize that I brought home only 6. When I said the words, "I brought one home for each of us, I brought 6 home", I immediately realized the mistake. Except it wasn't a mistake and I wasn't even upset. I didn't know how to process any of it. The realization of what I did, the fact that it felt okay. How was I supposed to feel? I guess as I did? You wouldn't have been able to decorate the damn pumpkin anyway. I am sure whatever one you have by your house in heaven is far more glamorous. I felt it was another moment on this journey where I was moving forward. I didn't need the pumpkin as a representation of you. I didn't need to stare at a pumpkin that you couldn't and wouldn't decorate. I didn't need to have a pumpkin to somehow subconsciously attempt to make you be here, to be real. It was a step, I think?
Has everything been a step these last two months? Was any progress made? Or, was it simply that I have gotten so good at my ability to compartmentalize and avoid that I managed to ride the waves for 9 complete weeks feeling like I was invincible? None of my avoidance or compartmentalizing makes the pain in my heart any less, it just makes it so much easier to pretend that it is the case. The insane part is that I even fooled myself this time. I really felt like things were okay. Maybe they were? Maybe they are?
Most of the things I have come to do since you physically left me were things I did to cope with your absence. Sitting by your grave for hours, writing you letters, painting rocks, buying you keychains for states you won't ever go to, buying bears or items that are red, posting pictures, telling stories, every single related to you, it was and is just for me. I understand that. That is why it makes so much sense it is always changing. I know deep down things were and are actually okay. It is all part of the journey. It won't make sense despite my best efforts because life after your death hardly does on its own. It's why as much as it hurts to ride the waves, crash, and repeat, it is what I will continue to do over and over again, for me to deal, with a life without you.
Until next time baby girl.
Love always and forever,
Ema
