366 Days

I almost typed 365, but then remembered it's a leap year.

366 days I've lived without you Grace.  366 days during which I probably thought about you more than 366 times in each day.  On my way to work, on my way home, throughout the day, at 4am when I should probably still be getting up to feed you (if you were like your brother, at least, at this age), on the weekends when you should be with us on our family outings.  You're a constant thought in my mind and my heart.  Exit 28.  In the past 366 days, I have not passed that on my way home without thinking about you and getting that - what's become my new normal - lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.  That's your exit, the way to your cemetery.  I pass it everyday on my way home from work and think of you, at times pulling off because the magnetic force is calling me to visit you.

Reflecting - in many ways, I've come so far.  In other ways I'm very much the same numb person I was when you left this world.  I long for the moments that someone, anyone, will mention you and talk with me about you.  It doesn't happen often.  And I probably scare people off when they do ask with tears filling my eyes - not that they always do when I talk about you - but usually they do mainly because I'm so proud to talk about you.  Most parents get to share exciting developmental updates about their kids with friends or coworkers who ask.  Or their complaints.  I suppose I don't have either, so it doesn't make for good conversation.  Then, there are the awkward moments when someone outside of the inner circle unknowingly asks about my kids.  I love to share that I have two children, one living and one waiting to be reunited one day.  I get one of two reactions - either they can relate because they too have experienced a loss (the minority react in this fashion) or it just makes them uncomfortable, so they give me a glimmer of sad face and then change the subject, as if I just told them I had a spoiled sandwich for lunch.  No biggie, just move on.  So, I've come to a keener sense of with whom and when I can speak of you.  Of with whom and when your life will be honored and dignified...and I avoid talk of my children with the others.  But I cringe every time I do it, thinking you will think I don't love you enough to share your life with them.  That I'm ashamed.  I'm not at all Grace.

Many things have been therapeutic over the past year.  It's those same car rides that bring the lump in my throat and tears in my eyes that have also been a great comfort.  I spend the majority of a typical day happy and focused.  It's good for me to have those few moments, my driving time primarily, that I can spend alone and thinking.  Maybe playing some good soothing 80's on 8 music in the background (enter Peter Cetera....).  And running provides those moments as well, though I'm not training for any big running event right now like I typically would be (or would have just finished), given your dad is training for an Ironman.  So, not a ton of running reflection lately at least. 

It's been good having supportive friends and family.  And particularly those who not only tell you they care, but act it out, even in very small and simple ways.  You know who you are - thank you for taking the time to care so much.

Mother's Day was a challenge this year.  I didn't blog about it - not at all because I don't like being a mother, I absolutely do.  It just wasn't complete without Grace.  I very much enjoyed my time with Gavin, but there was a definite missing piece.  I looked back on my blog from last Mother's Day, when I was in the hospital.  While I dreaded being away from home and longed to be with Brad and Gavin, there was something so special about that Mother's Day.  I had both of my children - I'll never have that again here on Earth. 

So, on your Birthday Eve, Grace, I'm thinking about you a lot.  I'm thinking about what a milestone birthday this would have been for you.  What a milestone it feels like in our grief journey.  For the past several months, I've reflected on what I was doing a year ago.  The roller coaster, the emotions, ups and downs, hope and failure.  It's hard to believe it has been a year - many times it feels like just yesterday.  The world keeps turning, faster and faster it seems. 

Tonight is my "Debbie Downer" post, I guess.  Tomorrow, on your birthday, I'm hoping to focus more on the good.  We'll be visiting with you, planting flowers around your tree, having a picnic by your side.  It will be a day of remembering, honoring and reflecting.  I know you'll be with us in spirit.  We love you Gracie!