I've been really struggling with June. This time two years ago Eva was fighting for her life in ICU in Edmonton. And she won. At that time. It wouldn't be till later when surgical complications would kill her.
I've just been watching some home videos of Eva today. God, to think I really, really did have that little girl once. She wasn't just a photograph or a memory. She was a joy. My joy. God, I miss her so much.
I love summer but I hate it too. Hate how fun it is. Hate how Eva's only summer with us was pain-filled for so much of it. Hate how time keeps marching on. Hate how I can feel joy again. Hate how I can talk easily to people and feel like Eva is forgotten. Hate how I can see beauty in her death, because, why the f*ck is there beauty in the death of a gorgeous little girl?
The tears stream down my face as I remember. Remember the little girl that once was mine. Remember my innocent joy. Wonder at how many people must have been jealous of me then. Three sons, one daughter and then Little J, just falling into our laps. Well, no need to be jealous anymore. Now we are your worst nightmare come true. ( Still I am well aware how damned lucky I am).
Sometimes I feel like I grieve too hard. Others I know who are well behind me on this forsaken road seem to be doing much better, even to me. They are handling the loss of their beloved child with a grace that I just wasn't, and perhaps still haven't, been able to muster.
Other times I feel like I'm doing better than I should be doing. Should I not still be a sobbing mess of tears on the kitchen floor? Why am I able to joke with people? Why am I even beginning to forgive the people who weren't willing or able to be there for us in the darkness following Eva's death? Why am I not still weeping daily? Did I not love my daughter enough? Why am I not suffering more than I am?
Then there are the times I feel like I am going crazy. I sometimes catch myself thinking we're still in 2011. What's with that? I know the month but don't know the year? The grief physically ransacks me at times and the RAGE consumes me. Am I going crazy? What is crazy?
And then I look at Nathan and pure love and fear fills me. Love for this little boy that would never exist without the death of his beloved sister and who I can't imagine not having (rather, I can imagine too well) and fear that he will die too. With those thoughts I wonder...is my love so fickle that I have allowed Nathan to heal parts of me I didn't know were broken. That I can't imagine Nathan gone but am living daily with the lack of his sister and what I really want is both of them. Both of them. All of them.
I fear for all my earthly children (cancer is always on my mind) but there is a special fear that accompanies Nathan's every breath. Watching Nathan is like watching Eva. Every breath he takes closer to 10 months takes me closer to her death. Ah, sweet Eva, I miss you so my dearest girl.