Every day I wake up and I think of you. Throughout the night, as I stir, I rub what used to be your home. Some mornings I wake from dreams of you and your big sisters and everything feels lighter. Other mornings my body doesn’t want to move and my mind races through a million unhelpful, yet necessary thoughts. People tell me you are always with me and with every ounce of my being I want to believe this. In this moment as I have began typing, I am beginning to see that perhaps it is true, you are here.
Right now your here in a way that hurts me so bad that I feel like I am choking and there is a knife in my heart. Yet this morning you were with me in a way that floated me to my baby girl’s room and gave me the sense that everything is going to be alright. You were with me in the car today as I drove myself to an appointment, feeling reassured and noting that everything that I am right now and that I will be, is a part of you just as you are a part of me. You were with me at lunchtime today when I finally made the decision that I actually do need to care for this body, if not for me, for you and Dahli and India. I can not let what happened make me weak and a bad role model for my baby girls and I must not lose myself as well. If I were to lose myself then I will have lost you completely. You need me to be strong. You need me to take care of myself and you’re guiding me as I do this for you, for my girls, for my husband and for me.
The things I do every day, the things I say, the emotions I feel, you have led me to them all. I can not hold you, but I can feel you. I can not see you, but I am beginning to believe that you can see me. I can not smell you, but I can talk to you. You have given me signs and I patiently await for more. It is not enough. It will never be enough. But it is something. And right now, in this uncharted territory, something is all that I can hope for.
Fly high my sweet finch, and don’t forget to visit your mummy.