I was feeling ambitious yesterday and deep cleaned in my kitchen. Removed years of dust from on top of the cabinets and pulled out the oven to clean the sides, underneath, and behind it.
Much to my delight I found this:
Judging on the fact that she had written her name on the front, I'm thinking this was during her Challenger School months.
I sat down and inspected it closer while immediately feelings washed over me of pure, physical ache. Missing her running around, doing her thing and filling my home with happiness. The void I felt was palpable.
But then....I think of how happy she is right now. Exactly where she belongs. Knowing that I can skype or visit her became just enough for me. As quickly as the feelings of loss came, they left with that reminder. She's just a phone call away. One click on the computer. She's busy doing the right thing in the right place with the where she rightfully belongs. Mommy, Daddy her room with her desk, her TV room, her friends, her playground, her school.
I smiled, set the mask aside to take out to her later this year and went back to cleaning and other thoughts.
Jill. Overwhelming feelings of sadness. I can't imagine the grief her parents feel. The loss without the ease of a phone call or mouse click to fill the void. If Splenda Daddy and me are often struck with sometimes kneebuckling grief, I can only imagine what it would be like for them.
I've been told that doing the tree this year for Festival will be healing. So far, I find it stressful. What if it sucks? What if I can't make it come together? What if no one likes it? What if I really can't make it happen and I fail?
Why do I cry everytime I put ornaments on and try to do a practice decorate?
The physical ache comes back but instead for Jill. For what might have been. For the pain she must have been feeling. For the ones left behind that are still hurting.
Suicide is dark.
I hope I can get the tree light enough.
Meanwhile, I will sit with my happy thoughts of her