It's during the long, quiet, isolating, overnight hours that missing him, longing for him, needing him becomes untenable. Those are the hours that Kate, nor I, are content with memories, stories, old shirts. Where we crave the feel of his hand, the low rumble of his voice and the warmth of his kiss.

A restless night for the littlest Witt. I finally was able to comfort her by moving the rocking chair to her window and letting "Daddy's smile" shine on her. When my little girl needs her daddy, that's the closest I can come.

People keep saying there is beauty in death. I want to hit them. I've watched life make it's final march out of too many people. There was no part of it, even when peaceful, that is beautiful. I'm compelled to say more but should maybe just say less.

There is nothing like climbing into a bed with clean, fresh, sheets. I wish I could find the time and inclination to wash my sheets every day. It brings me a small piece of happiness.

Visits with friends that are really more like family (should I call them framily) and real family, are my lifeline. I survived the last two weeks because of them. And today between the long visits, short visits and calls on the phone, I had a few moments where I felt whole.

I have to mail a stuffed flamingo to my Grams in Texas. When the flamingo lost a leg this afternoon Kate insisted that Grams, and only Grams, was the only one that could possibly fix it. Any freight charge is worth it to have Kate and my Grams connected. Who needs Skype, I have a wounded flamingo.

I wish I had the energy to take my bed; clean, fresh sheets and all, haul it down the hallway so I could sleep under "Daddy's smile".

My eyelids are feeling heavy again. Maybe I've said enough that my mind can rest.

Colleen  – (September 10, 2011 at 7:34 AM)  

Thinking of you guys. You are such a good mama B : )

Amy  – (September 10, 2011 at 8:31 PM)  

I love you sweetheart. So many people do. That little girl is so lucky to have you. And in our house we call them "frientitives."

Post a Comment