I think sometimes it’s almost worse when I feel ok. Because the minute I realize I’ve been feeling ok, I start to feel guilty. Shouldn’t I feel worse? My daughter just died. I’m not supposed to be happy or normal or appreciate the freedom that we have to just pick up and go out to dinner or the store. I can beat myself up pretty badly.
Lately there’s been a string of days where I felt ok. I’ve been sleeping better (albeit sometimes with benedryl) and able to get through the day without dwelling too much on our loss. I haven’t had to distract myself the same ways I did when she first died. So I end up feeling lousy for not feeling sad all the time. And I think I had myself fooled into thinking that I had turned some kind of corner in this grief thing, that maybe I will be ok for the long haul. Then today writing something to a friend on facebook brought tears to my eyes and I realized that this kind of loss means that I will not ever been fully ok again, not in this life.
I’m in this strange place between devastating grief and trying to find normal again, the new normal of our lives. Losing Samantha hurts so much more than losing Jonah, so finding normal will be more difficult. And I don’t think I’ll find it any time soon.
One of the ways I know I’m not ok is that I can’t bring myself to hold a baby yet. I pass the infant room every day at church on my way to the bathroom and I look in. There’s a little boy in there who looks a lot like Samantha, which is heartbreaking all on its own. And I feel this desire to go in and snuggle one of those little babies. But I just can’t. Not yet. The desire is a new one for me, I’ve never really been a baby person. But now I just want to reach out and feel a tiny warm body. I hold my sister’s littlest more, she’s 15 months old, but it’s not the same and that’s probably ok right now. I just miss our little girl so much.
Some days this blog feels like a broken record, and for that I apologize. But I keep writing because it’s truly how I feel and in many ways this grief process is my way of blooming a new kind of joy in my life, the kind that has stains and nicks and a heaviness that comes from the loss we’ve experienced.