I just want to be with you, B.
I can’t believe you’re gone. It’s a wave of panic that comes over me every time I let myself go there. There, to the place of full acknowledgement, painfully aware and present to your physical absence. You were the heavy in my arms, but now, they are heavier with you not in them.
I am trying, B.
Trying to take one grace-filled step after the other. I am making my bed and trying not to crawl back in it. I am showing up and want to hide, all in the same moment. When you are newly bereaved, again, even simple things are hard.
Continue reading “I can’t believe you’re gone.”
I am so tired.
I feel how Jayden looks-smashed and buried.
This weekend, I think I experienced every emotion God made.
First grade doesn’t stop for my youngest just because her sister died. I thought I missed her open house, but it’s tonight. I thought I missed the bus time, but I remembered they post it online. I thought school started today, but it’s tomorrow.
I’m all screwed up, but God knows.
What do we do on these days?
The days after the funeral?
The days when everyone else seems to move forward and we are left picking up the pieces of our shattered life?
What do we do when the cards and casseroles stop?
When people stop saying her name? His name?
How do we answer, “How many kids do you have?”
Continue reading “What do we do on Monday after the funeral?”