We went to family camp with our church this year. I kept myself slightly removed but I was there, and that's progress. I guess.
Friday night of family camp I brought Eva to our local hospital. Father's Day 2011 she was airlifted to the Stollery children's hospital.
The weekend wasn't terrible but I am keeping my grief to myself more. I wept during every campfire singing but sat on my cabin step out of sight of peering eyes. I don't need anyone's arms around me. I only need Eva. And nobody can give me that.
But I was still touched by kindnesses shown me during the weekend. People saying they remembered. It means a lot, somehow.
Father's Day was not as bad as it could have been. But I hurt for Mike. I know he longs for his child too. And it's hard to have the day that is the beginning of the end of our time with Eva be on Father's Day. It takes the joy out of it all.
But altogether, there was surprisingly less pain this year than the last two. I always hesitate to write that kind of stuff for fear that some stupid person will think that Eva doesn't matter anymore. Because she does, and, oh what I would give to have her back.
Kids lined up waiting their turn on the sand swing. The first little girl on the left is younger than Eva would be now. Eva should have been keen on the sand swing this year.
Samuel flying through the air on the sand swing.
Samuel turned eight on Saturday June 14th.
The kids painting fish and lobsters.
Theodore thought it was so cool that his feet fit inside this trunk. He insisted I take his photo.
I painted this on an old picnic table that was already paint splattered while the kids painted their fish. I didn't ask permission and it felt so good to paint this. Painting feels good. Even something simple like this. She is always with us.