I've been feeling pretty disconnected lately. I'm in this weird spot of being really really sad, yet still functioning. I just avoid all the things that trigger me to really realize that this happened. So, I get up, feed Lyvi breakfast, eat my eggs and drink an obscenely huge cup of coffee, get us ready, and leave the house. I find any excuse to leave because being here makes my realize Violet is missing. Sure, she's missing from my car, from the shopping cart, from the stroller, from my person (meaning she isn't on me in the Moby wrap or Mei Tai) etc etc. But, her absence is most noticeable at home. Everywhere in this house is a memory of her. My bed is where she slept every night. My couch is where I spent countless hours nursing her. The toy room is where I would sit with her and play with Lyvi, or where Lyvi would jump around and make her laugh. The bathroom is where I would sit her in her rocker chair while I tried to get ready, and where I gave her baths. Lyvi's room is where I would get her changed into her jammies at night, or rock her in the glider, or lay her in the crib for a little nap while I tried to shower, or let her roll around on the ground, or let her play with Lily. The kitchen table is where her bouncy chair always was, she despised that damn chair. Everywhere I look is a place she once was. Even this damn computer chair. I sat her and Lyvi in it and took a picture of them in outfits for our first (and only) family pictures. And, I rocked her in this chair a lot in the last few weeks. She is missing from this house. So, I detach myself. I leave. I try not to be here alone at all. I just feel disconnected. It makes my life harder trying to be away from home as much as possible with my almost 3 year old. Toddlers do not function like well behaved human beings in public for long. It doesn't take long before she is sprawled on the floor like a rabid animal, foaming at the mouth and screaming like a banshee. It's a lot of fun.
It's almost been 3 months. I am not any closer to feeling "ok" about any of this. 3 months is such a small amount of time. In case any of you are wondering, I am not ok. I am not "over this" or "through this." I still have a lot of trauma and grief and shock. I still need to talk about what happened. I still say morbid awful things. I still need you to check in, ask how I am, and honestly want to know. If I tell you I'm awful, I want you to understand. I don't want you to tell me this will get better. I don't want anyone to tell me it's time to start moving forward. I would still love to hear memories you have of Violet, or see pictures you have of her. I want to hear how sad you are, how much you miss her, how this has affected your life. Even if you didn't see her often, or even if you never met her. It means a lot, A LOT, to know her life affected others. Even if only her death brought her into your life. I desperately need to know that she made an impact and that even though she hasn't been alive for just about 3 months, people are still thinking of her. I need to know that I am not the only one still sad about her tragic, awful, untimely, useless, terrible, wretched, unthinkable, preventable, traumatic, abrupt, chaotic, pointless, heartbreaking, soul-crushing death. I just need to know that she's still here, even though she isn't here.
Hey baby love. I miss you. I am so ready to move into the new house, but I am still so scared. I don't know how I am going to react leaving the last place you ever lived. I know we need to get out of here, but I don't know if I am really truly ready. I don't think one can ever be ready to leave the last place their child was alive. I just have to bite the bullet and do it. This is a sad house. I think I will have a hard time being in the extra room at the new place because that should be your room. I think I'll avoid that room for awhile. I just miss you. I know I look ok and am functioning this week, but it's just a show. You know my mind is an ongoing catastrophe. I just miss you. I love you. Wait for me let's go to the stars.