A year part 1

My first thoughts this morning as I opened my eyes to see 321 on the clock, "normal, I feel normal". As the eyes opened so did reality. The crushing pressure in my chest; my constant companion this past week and the blinding searing pain that radiates over my eyes were back. How can I do this? How can I manage this day?
Toss and turn. Toss and turn. Mind swirling, empty thoughts, fragments of thoughts really swirling in my head. The same thoughts that have lingered all week.
He wouldn't recognize his daughter now. She's so big. Her face has changed. Her speech is clearer. Her thoughts more structured and concise. She too carries the sadness behind her eyes. A sadness that didn't exist a year ago.
She remembers him so well. Things I didn't think were possible for her to remember she holds with such clarity. She draws him as an angel. But talks to him and about him like he's here. Until it's time to make a wish or talk about what she wants to do when she's older. Then it's the same thing every time. "I wish my daddy could come back home. When I get big enough I'm going to invent a time machine to bring Daddy home.". Ugh.

I'm not where I thought I would be by now. This isn't what I pictured. I had a plan.


Toss,turn,toss,turn mumble,dream,breathe...


Get up. The alarm is screaming that it's time to workout. Another 90 minutes of sweat to chase it all away. I've got muscles I never knew I had. Even then, when I would literally carry my husband I wasn't as strong as I am today. Carrying him made me feel strong, powerful, like I had a purpose. Now... I can sweat.
Today's 90 turned to 27. I can't do it. I just can't. My breathing is wrong. My focus, my drive... Gone. As I lay on the floor all I can think is write. Write! Write to him, write to her, write to yourself. Just write. So here I am. Writing. Breathing. Listening.

I don't remember the birds chirping outside my window last year. But I wasn't in my room. What do I remember? The struggled, labored managed breaths. The eyes that lit up every time Kates voice could be heard. The scratchy, raspy, barely audible, voice that said "don't leave me, I can't be without you. I don't want to be alone."

This is my journey. This is my path. I get to choose how to spend this day. I will not spend anymore time remembering the alone, the sad, the loss. I will take our girl and I will remember the good. We'll do something new, visit you at the lake and eat your favorite dinner.

I will put away the memories of my sighs, eye rolls and complaining. I will tell her again the story of us. I will share the funny times. That is where the life is. That is what matters.