So, yesterday, I jumped back into the routine of school drop-off and housekeeping, plus unpacking of both our luggage, and my Scentsy starter kit. I just became a consultant.
I didn't have time to think about it being Sarah's birthday. Of course, I still knew.
Let me explain.
New grief is all-consuming. It's this fire that eats away at you from the inside. You can never stop it burning, but eventually you do contain it. You take your memories, and your feelings, and you put them away so that they don't take over everything. But they don't go away.
On Sarah's birthday, I usually open the door to visit those thoughts and feelings and memories. But I need some time.
If I open that door, much like my actual closet, stuff is going to fall out of it, and it's a hard door to close again. I didn't have time to sit down with my box of her things, like I usually do, and touch them and sniff them to see if they still smell like her at all. They don't, by the way. Which I think is unfair. Smell is such a powerful sense. If I could still smell her....I don't know.
Today though, it seems that place in my heart is open whether I want it to be or not. And, for the record, I'm not sure if I want it to be or not.
I miss my daughter. I miss all of the things we were supposed to do together. I miss all the pictures we were supposed to have, and the memories we were supposed to make together.
And, at the same time, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude for the people who have loved us through loss, and continue to do so.
Hug your kids. Hug your friends. Hug your parents. Hug the people who matter. And then, when all the hugging is done, click the banner below to vote for my blog. Thanks!