Go ahead...we'll catch up!

We are in mourning, grieving, it is emotionally and physically exhausting.

We will mourn the loss of our little girl every day for the rest of our lives.

As cruel as it feels, the sun still rises every morning and sets in the evening.

Every morning I wake up (I use the phrase lightly as sleep is something that I am struggling with) and face the reality that Lucy is no longer physically with us...she died...she is in Heaven.  

Every morning I have to figure out how to live life without her. 

If we weren't living this reality I wouldn't believe the disbelief that we continue to experience.  It feels surreal, only it's not a far-fetched dream, it's real.

As time moves on, we are not.  We are standing still, trying to process and reflect on what happened and what is happening.

Go ahead...we'll catch up!  Probably not right away, not for a long while, and our path it will change.

Our life is indelibly changed!  

I put myself on social isolation last week.  Drew was supportive of my decision fully aware of the emotional storm that was brewing.  My emotions are like gaping wounds sensitive to the slightest touch.  

We went to church last Sunday for the first time since Lucy's celebration of life service.  The sermon was good even if it was entitled "Moving Forward", seriously.  I was not good, I struggled to not cry out loud.

Lucy's birthday was on Wednesday, it took every ounce of energy from me to simultaneously celebrate her life and grieve her death.

Birthdays mark the number of years since birth, they are a celebration of life - it just doesn't feel appropriate right now, like pouring salt on my gaping wounds.

There was a full moon last night, it shone brightly in the night sky.  I remember staring at that same moon, full, from the parking lot of the funeral home one month ago on the night of Lucy's Valentine's Day service, warm tears streaming down my cold face.

Yesterday, we celebrated my birthday.  Whether or not I want to, I am getting older without my baby girl being here.  We all went to a restaurant for lunch to celebrate.  I begged Drew not to tell them that it was my birthday, he mentioned it.  Thankfully the waitress could tell from the expression on my face that I was really in no mood at all for the fake enthusiasm that accompanies a restaurant chorus of some version of "Happy Birthday".  Lucy's absence felt even more enormous than usual.  A table for five, it kills me every time!  

Fact, Lucy's favorite song was "Happy Birthday".  She loved to sing it!  It's repetitive; the same four words over and over, the perfect song for a girl like ours.  When we were singing it for her on her birthday the kid's expressions told of the same memory, of Lucy signing Happy Birthday over and over and over... Yesterday it definitely hurt more that we were missing a member of the choir.

Our kids, they are each processing and dealing with the death of their sister in their own way.  It is so true what they say about grief, no two people grieve the same way. In our house, no five people are grieving the same way.  From six o'clock on there is a general sadness that overcomes us all, that was our time with Lucy.  Bedtime, it's the absolute worst time of the day for all of us.  Her music still echoes in our halls and in her bedroom, but the silence everywhere is deafening.  At times we have thought about turning on her oxygen compressor, only we recognize that it will probably make things worse not better.

This reminds me, I need to call our respiratory supply company and schedule a time for them to come and pick up all of Lucy's equipment.  At a time when we are so desperately hanging onto anything Lucy, we are constantly being reminded that she is no longer here.  

We recently received a letter in the mail that simply read, "Lucy Marlett no longer qualifies for services in our county", the reason in big bold letters, "DEATH".  Thanks, as if we didn't know. 

Drew had thirty days from the date of Lucy's death to make changes to our benefits; taking Lucy off of our list of beneficiaries was painful for him. 

Life it goes on, whether we do our not.  

Please don't read this and feel compelled to try to find solutions to our pain or problems.  My intention, as it always has been on the pages of this blog, is to document where we are in our journey.  It has always been more for me than anyone, but I know so many of you care and want to know, which is why I share.