Her wind chimes are playing again. The wind has picked up enough to move them often in the middle of the night, so I have some company when I'm missing her too much to sleep. The days haven't gotten easier, so much, but maybe...fuller. There is a puppy in the house now, so there is always someone who needs me, which makes the fact that Jake doesn't need me quite so much these days a little easier to take.
Work is busy; stressful. At times it is a little overwhelming, but the routine is a good thing for my brain. I recognize this now. The purpose is good for my soul. Helping others is the thing that helps me most. And if I get a little passionate about my children at work, well...I don't apologize.
The holidays have snuck up on me this year with a little less foreboding. Maybe I've just been too distracted. I guess we'll see how I'm feeling when the turkey actually hits the table. I remain cautiously optimistic, which is about forty steps ahead from last year.
But tonight, I want to take a moment to cave in and give over. My pain deserves a seat and a proper conversation. Grief may be put off if you can get yourself busy enough, but it is a stalker of singular purpose. You will be cornered at some point. You will be forced to see that face again. That old familiar pain will be back, and although it burns and strips and whips you to the bone, it also connects you to your child. Give that up? Give her up? Never.
Tie me to the post, but let me look at her face while I scream.
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