Valentine's Day

Today was kinda weird.

I mean, in some ways every day is weird. 

But today I was at home alone, all day, for the first time since you left. 

I spent it working on going through things and trying to get stuff straightened up.  I decided to tackle your room. The plan is to get the carpets cleaned and then move other furniture in, including a curio cabinet for some of your memories. Most of it was "okay" but then that little sticky got to me. 

I took down your name sign that a child life specialist made several years ago. I did the blankets and pictures and everything, but I also put them in a bins to take back out again when we get the curio set up. The only thing left in this corner is the shadow box that Holli put together.

But that sticky...

I threw it away and went to take the rest up to the closet where the rest of your toys and clothes and blankets are.  And I lost it. 

It hurt so bad!!! 

That sticky was there so that in an emergency no one had to look for the ambu bag. Regardless of who was in the house, the bag was accessible and easy to get to. It was my security system, your safeguard. It was used, a LOT.

And now it's not needed. 

But maybe I  still need it. So I went back downstairs, fished it out of the trash and put it in my office, inside one of my cabinets so when I need to see it, it's there. 

It's not in the trash. 

I'm just not ready. And that's okay. 

I'm not going to push harder than I am able. I go to work. I function (mostly) at home. I'm starting to be able to get out of bed at a reasonable time. I don't even completely break down every day. 

I miss you, terribly, but I don't think you would want me to be incapacitated. I feel like honoring you and your memory means being able to move forward and at some time, find joy again. 

However, for many, many years I've felt that in order to move on from loss, any kind of loss, we have to be able to mourn the loss of the dream we had before healing can take place.

So I will mourn you when the feelings come, and I will hold on to the things I'm not ready to give up. Frankly, if I even think I'm not quite ready to move something on, it's in the closet upstairs, or in my room, or a few other places.   

I love you, kiddo.  I miss you.  You have been an integral part of my life for so long, intrinsic to my very being, and the amputation has been excruciating. I've heard of phantom pain in amputees. Maybe that's part of what I feel, why I sometimes head into your room, why I have a hard time being out of earshot of your room. 

So it's Valentine's Day, and I decorated your grave with hearts on stems and a balloon. 

I love you. I miss you. 

“The most important business of life is love, or maybe it’s the only one.”

– Stendhal