Again.
Without you.
I've actually been able to talk about you, and my grief, lately and not break down. But somehow, somehow my body seems to know when it's time again.
I find dread starting to creep in on Thursday evening.
And then it hovers in the wings Friday morning.
I do manage to go to work and set it aside. After all, it's my story, not my clients' and they deserve my full attention.
But then the trip home on Fridays always seems so dark, even though the sun is out. There are nights I can make it home without crying, or at least without sobbing. Not on Fridays.
Tonight Daddy and I watched Maleficent: Mistress of Evil. A fun show, it's been way too long since I saw it to remember everything.
I forgot that she dies and Aurora is heartbroken. Those sobs, that anguish... And I was right back at your bedside again.
Tomorrow is General Conference, Aaron. How many times over the years did we watch from the hospital? Usually the PICU? I really don't know. But we also were home for many of them, and each time I tried to get a picture of you watching. You especially loved the music. Sometimes I wrote about it, like when I reflected on listening to the choir sing, "My Life is a Gift" from your PICU room, and how your life was, is, a gift, a precious one.
But recently I found a post that I started but never finished. Do you remember how I would take notes, in large part to help me focus? Well, here's the only part I got down from that time:
"Mortality is only the second act of a three-act play. The atonement covers all unfairness in life."
I'm pretty sure it's not an exact quote, but oh, it speaks to me. I'm grateful I wrote it down whenever it was because now I cling to it.
I love you so much. Miss you dreadfully.
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