August 4, 2016
Daddy gave me a pleasant surprise this morning. I remember being cuddled by Daddy in the middle of the night. It amazes me the myriad of ways you have changed me. For years, I have despised cuddling, but now? Now, I need that closeness. Anyway, even in my state of semi-consciousness, I was panicked about daddy returning to work. This morning, I woke up and rolled over, crushed that I didn’t have your Daddy to ease the wave of sadness I now wake to every morning. So I grabbed my phone and sent him a panicky face. As it happens, your intuitive Daddy knew I wasn’t ready to be alone yet. He had woken up and decided he needed to stay home. I was so epically relieved. This does, however, mean he will be gone tomorrow.
The good news is that we did check some stuff off the to-do list. We got Mowgli’s medicine, grabbed my mini cooper’s title, got some groceries, and even stopped to get some more embroidery floss to practice with. Afterward, we stopped by the house I grew up in. I didn’t make the connection until now, but I grew up on East Grand Oak Lane, a street named for its big strong oak trees. Now, we’re planting oak trees for you. Fitting, I suppose. It was nice to show Daddy where I grew up. We even r grabbed Pepper Mill cheesesteaks on the way home.
This afternoon, I practiced my embroidery. You won’t be shocked that I am using your name for practice. I told you I would write your name everywhere, and I plan to follow through. I am waiting for nicer fabric to arrive for some more practice.
I have faced some harsh realizations today. So far, since losing you three weeks (not sure how that’s possible(, I’ve had this weird sense of waiting. It’s like I have the flu. If I rest, hydrate and wait, eventually I’ll wake up feeling better. With time, you forget exactly how terrible the flu felt and life returns to normal. That’s not going to happen this time. No amount of time can fix this. No amount of sleep and soup can fix you being gone. Even a smudge on the wall from Daddy smushing a scary bug hurts me now. I was laying right here nearly 7 months pregnant, and your daddy saved the day by getting rid of a scary bug on the ceiling. Just seeing that smudge hurts me so badly because it reminds me that I was pregnant with you. I miss you so much, and nothing can “fix” that. I just want you back with every fiber of my being. I wanted to give you the world and I never got that chance.
Love you dearly,