More Growing Pains

So Jake is now five foot five, which is one inch taller than Cory was.  It boggles the mind.  I guess it would have been a little funny anyways if she were still here to see him standing taller than her, the same way I feel to be eye to eye with him.  How in the world did that happen? 

 But with her gone, it feels less funny and more sad.  It feels like a time warp, in which your oldest child who'd grown to her fullest height stopped existing before she could see her brother catch up to her or possibly even pass her up.  In a moment, your youngest child becomes your oldest living child, which never feels right, and feels more and more wrong the older he gets and the closer he gets to the age she was when she died.  How can this be?  What strange, horrible new world is this?

And you don't get to be amazed together to see the little baby Jacob who'd really belonged to you both since day one change into a young man right before your eyes. It's not the same when you can't share it with that little mother hen who loved him so dearly...when you can't say, oh my God, Cory, do you remember when he... and.... and...?

And while she was as tall as she'd ever be, you don't get to see her face subtly aging, her stance become a bit more confident, her mannerisms remaining  wholeheartedly Cory-Girl yet beginning to resemble those of a twenty-something young woman instead of a teen.

It will never feel right to live in a world without her.  Nothing that brings joy, even watching my second child grow, remains untainted by the gnawing pain of her absence.  

I still hate my Cory-less world.

A Little Rant, A Little Rave

And the thoughts come fast, fast, fast...same as ever, they never change- "How did this happen?  What did I do wrong?"

While Jake is taking a post-dinner nap, having told me all about his fifth day of high school, I am free to root through pics of Cory and cry silently without making him worry for me.  I stopped to see her twice today- once on the way to work and once on the way home, and I still...STILL...can't reconcile my beautiful girl with that place in the ground.  That second time, on the way home, I had to kneel in front of her and just beg her forgiveness.  I'm so sorry, Cory!  I'm so sorry!!  I should've gone to the store.  I depended on you too much.  It was my responsibility.

See?  Lots of other people still have their girls.  I screwed it all up.

It isn't fair!  And while I can forgive the people who did her wrong while she was alive, I find I'm still not a big enough person to forgive the one who took her life...although that apology has never been offered and probably never will be.  Sometimes you don't get that apology that you think you rightfully deserve.  And you have to move on, anyway.

What is "I'm sorry" after all?  It means nothing.  It changes nothing, really.  Sometimes people say it to get their way.  Sometimes people say it to appease other people.  Sometimes it's a blatant lie.  What I know from my experience in an abusive relationship is that "I'm sorry" is useless and meaningless.  The only time someone is ever really sorry for their actions is when they make the effort not to repeat them...over and over again...and this, of course, would come after owning the shit they did in the first place.

Forgiving someone who hasn't apologized is supposed to bring you peace and lighten your burden.  In many cases, I agree.  I have forgiven Bob for so much for both me and my girl.  But to forgive the driver?  That's somewhere I'm not yet.  To forgive myself?  Somedays I can get there.

Just not today.  Today I feel like a piece of crap who can't even get in front of the person I need to see to tell her if I had it all to do over again, I'd never make the same mistake twice.