Saturday, January 30, 2016

I can see it in their eyes.

I can see it in people's eyes. When they hear 2011. Two thousand and eleven. It's soo long ago. Practically another time.  Their eyes glaze over. Why do I keep talking about my child? Why do her brothers and (adopted) sister still mention her? Why don't you just get on with it Em? And I do. I really do get on with it.

But what I can't get over is that I can't believe it's 2016. To me, that's harder to believe than 2011 was so long ago. I can't explain how it feels like my life stopped in 2011. The world stopped turning (except it didn't). 

I still miss my little girl every single day. 

Sometimes I am happy and I find it hard verging on impossible to comprehend that I once held my heart's desire in my arms. And that I never will again.

Laughing still carries the weight of grief and wonder in that I can't believe I am able to laugh.

And then sometimes the grief comes and bites me so hard. 

Last week there was a baby dedication at our church. For a little girl. And then the sang the song we played at Eva's funeral. That kind of shit hits like nothing else. And I can't believe so many years have passed. Nobody even remembers anymore (except a very few for whom I'm thankful). So many in our church never met Eva.  Don't even know our large family is short one small but priceless member.

I seriously don't know how I keep on keeping on. How I've managed to kept it sort of together these past years.  How is it possible that it's 2016? How is it possible that people's eyes glaze over when they hear 2011?