Birthday

It seems unfair that the anniversary of your life and the anniversary of your death are so close together. I  barely got through one, and now the other looms ahead like a threat.

I have been spending my days fighting tears, trying to wrap myself in the safety of the here and now,  trying to get caught up in the excitement of daily life... it does work for short bursts of time, but always I am sucked back into this anxiety, this loss. Waiting for your birthday. Waiting for this sense of dread to pass. Waiting for everything to settle. Not quite into a happy pattern, but at least into acceptance.

I think I was actually better last year. At least I understood that the intensity of emotion was directly related to the immediacy of your loss. But now... I am drowning. I am lost at sea. I am breaking.

I used to look forward to your birthday celebration with such excitement. I didn't think it would come back to this. Will it always? I don't know if I can take it anymore. I'm tired, and I'm scared that this won't go away.

I lived for so long in fear that you wouldn't come home, and after it happened I put all of my energy into recovering and into protecting our family from falling apart. I thought it was working, but here I am again, just as broken as I was on that first day.

I miss you, Baby Girl. I'm lost without you, you were too much a part of me.

I don't know how to let you go, I only know that I must. And I have to do all that I can to try to believe that you are in a better place, and that you are happy, and at peace. If I can believe that, maybe I can find some peace of my own. As selfish as that feels, I desperately need to figure it out.

I love you. I pray for you every day.
Love,
Mommy