And yet, I feel so lost and alone. So bereft without my girl.
I just read about a mom who wrote a book about her experience of her daughters death. She started writing it nine months after her daughter died, she got it published by this time. It brought me back to the book I wrote about Eva's death. A book I long to publish. I haven't the gumption to get the manuscript to publishers. A book I would self publish if it wasn't a children's book and in need of illustrations. Even Jerry Sitter's book A Grace Disguised was published there years after his tragedy.
And here I sit, barely managing to hang on. Barely managing to parent the children I am gifted with and loving writing. And no book. No nothing.
Maybe I am wallowing.
But, honestly, it all feels like yesterday that she died. Yesterday and forever. And how is it that I am supposed to have accomplished anything when she just died yesterday,
A blogger I follow whose daughter died at age three, four years ago has done so much. When I first started following her she seemed so much further along the road of grief than I am. But she is less than two years ahead of me. And I still sit here broken. Grieving.
Another mom I have followed just lost their baby boy last week. Their son died peacefully. They all held him. They have been comforted since his death.
There was no peace in Eva's death. If I close my eyes I am back in the emergency room screaming in my daughters ear to come back...
She never opened her eyes again and said good bye. She was gone, so gone...and I am alone with my tears.
I guess I just wonder when the fuck I'll get my life back and I know the answer to that is never but when will I be at ease with the new me?
