The late summer sun beats through my window and I can feel the days growing closer. The sun takes on the same golden shade as it was 9 years ago and I know, it is almost here.
The kids are gearing up for back to school. I’m just glad they don’t start on her day again this year. I’m glad I can hide from the world for most of the day. Of course I will still have to pretend everything in my world is perfect and wonderful when we go meet their teachers that afternoon.
Always on her day. Something always comes up and I can’t give it just to her. Every of the last 9 years.
Sometimes I want to give in to my grief. I want to cry, scream, shrink and just stop. I want to curl up in a ball and stay that way for an entire month.
But I fear I wouldn’t be able to get up.
So I keep going. I trudge on. I make beds, brush teeth, bathe children. I wash dishes, laundry, diapers and hands. I sweep, vacuum, dust and mop. I make breakfast, lunch and dinner. I just keep going, because I really have no choice.
Most of the time I am fine. I really am. I am good at distracting myself and keeping myself happy(ish).
There are times and seasons though when the grief creeps in and despite my best efforts, I can not keep it at bay. I talk to her while I run. I think of her while I swim. I pray while I ride. All in an effort to allow myself time to miss her, while not taking away from the 5 people here on earth who need me so badly.
I am fine…except when I’m not and right now, I’m just missing my baby.