Some girls are just born with glitter in their veins

remember Libby

Tony just took the boys out to go shopping for my birthday which is tomorrow. He doesn’t even bother asking what do I want.. we both know you cant buy the one thing I want.

The moment I heard the garage door close I came to her room. .. I hear the sounds of the ocean in here. We never have been able to turn off the sound machine we had playing for her..

Today is so hard.. today I miss her so damn much. I feel so angry. I feel so alone.

I just want to lay in her bed.. I want to find something in this house that smells like her. That feels like her. I can’t though .. there is nothing.. there really was nothing.. lice a few weeks before she went on hospice meant everything was washed.. uncontrollable vomiting means it all got washed again..

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it doesn’t seem real. this cant be my baby.. this cannot be happening.. please please please…

I look at her picture.. her smiling face.. her big brown eyes. She is my daughter. She is dead. oh god oh god oh god. I cant breath right. I cant see through the onslaught of misery pouring down my face..

I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.

I try to find the words to describe this.. I can’t. Sometimes I wonder if I should just set up a camera and talk to it..

the rocking.. the crying.. the pulling.. the noises.. grunts and moans that escape..

no words to explain..

its physical.. its palpable.. I can feel it in my chest.. this pulling.. breaking.. heaviness.

Another 12th is looming.. Tony will be at work. I think maybe I resent him for that. That’s not fair. But I want him here with me. I want to drive to the beach together.. and just be allowed to fall apart for a whole entire day.

I feel like I am being pulled into a drain.. a dark and scary hole. . that is simultaneously terrifying and so familiar.

I rock .. I grab my own hair. I hug myself. ..

i pause

I look around her room. desperately looking for something though I am not exactly sure what. A way to connect.. to find her.. to make my escape…

its hurts so bad. I curl into myself.. my knees want to pull to my chest.. and head dropping towards my knees.

I don’t think it ever gets better. I think a piece of me will be suffering like this every day for the rest of my life.

Tomorrow one year older.. something to celebrate.. one year closer to dying. Tony went out with friends last night. While he was gone I talked to her for awhile… then watched some mindless reality tv to try to quiet my mind .. to find my sleep. The woman said she was scared of getting older and I laughed.. a literal LOL moment. Because I look forward to it.

I think I will forever be broken like this.. just get much better at hiding it. Pushing it down. but never healing.. no real respite from this despair.. until I get a respite from this life.

I want a rewind or fast forward button. .

and I taste the guilt in those words.. the irony of it all. That I am missing these glory years with my left behind babies.. These times that I truly did appreciate. Those that have known me before becoming the mom of love4jlk know that it is true. I am now ┬ámissing this period of their lives that so many older people describe by sharing “enjoy it.. it goes by so fast”

only if you are lucky.

“They grow up so fast.”

only if you are lucky.

My new reply.. today it takes on new meanings. I don’t want to miss this time with them.. I don’t want them to be grown up.. but I have to.. only through the passage of that time will I get to go to her again.

I am emptied. I am drained. I feel so weak right now.

depleted. defeated. completely void of the onslaught of emotions that were just consuming me.

I look through my pictures .. and I see the ones at the top of my “last 12 months” section…

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this memory.. this moment in time of my girls will soon only be in the “photos” section.. Its like our time is being slowly pulled away.. erased.. pushed aside.

I stare at her picture on the desk that Santa brought her last year.. her last healthy Christmas. . I stare at it and I try to remember holding her. My arms tingle with it.. I try to not breath too loud.. maybe I can will her out of that picture.. or will me into it ..

she existed. she lived. she died.

I say that for me. I cant explain it.. but most of the time I walking in a fog that doesn’t allow penetration of those words.. humiliatingly it also blocks out the reality of her…makes my mind disconnect from it being her . Like she seems like a dream or a fantasy…

because the impact of her being real is so destructive I cannot allow it in..

I cry most night missing her, that is always the truth. I never sensationalize through my words. But somehow it still doesn’t permeate to my depths.

but now.. I am alone in her room.

Jennifer. she existed. she lived. she died.

my daughter. my first born. she existed. she lived. she died.

remember Libby..

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