The Day

Well, here we are.  Madi has been gone for one year.  52 weeks. 365 days.  525,600 minutes.  And trust me when I say we have felt her absence in every. single. one.  The weight of this day has been pressing down on me for months, each day increasing the pressure a little bit more.  Flashes of conversations, snippets of memories, smiles and hugs and tears and pain have showered over my brain in an immaculate torment.  Sometimes, the pace is so quick and the gravity so strong that it immobilizes me completely.  I sit and must succumb to it all. 

 The last week stole any hope of normalcy, with my demons stealing my breath in great gulpy sobs, squeezing my lungs and gouging my eyes for long stretches of time until I sit empty, but somehow still full of sadness and grief.

That's the reality, folks.  Loss really takes the wind out of your sails. 

I was up this morning at 3am, waiting for that last whispy memory to come crashing into my mind again. I saw her again slipping from her broken body and going... Truthfully, I am really not sure where.  Where did she go?  I again saw myself lying beside her hugging her, Kurt hugging us both until they had to take her away. 

  

And then that's where the memories kind of stop a little bit.  I call this "The cloud time."  This is when the cloud that has been around my head for the last 12 months descended and set up camp, making it hard to do or remember even basic things.  There are days - and they have increased in the last month - when I wanted to cheer because I remembered to put my shirt on right-side-out or run a brush through my hair.  I hear cloud time doesn't last forever and I really, really hope it's true.  

I have had many setbacks as my world has been turning upside down and right side up this year.  I have had many, many epiphanies.  My perspective on life and the universe has opened and closed in rotating spins, which has left me feeling extremely disoriented and often confused. My relationship with God has changed because I have changed fundamentally. It’s insecure knowing and feeling divine love, but also knowing and feeling that it cannot be the way I thought-no, knew- it was before. I long for the solid ground I felt before my world crumbled, but I also marvel at the strength of my footing in a world that changes as much as mine has.   I love my new muscles and I hate how I got them.

We miss her.  I did not know a person could feel such longing.  We miss her so much.  

Forgive me that I can't end on an upbeat note today.  I know there is so much to be grateful for, there is so much hope in the world, and so much love and happiness.  Today, I want to feel the full force of my sadness and loss.  Just today.  I'm not even sure why, I just need to.  

I love all of you so very much, those who watch out for us every day, who miss Madi, too.  I love all of you for taking my kids and giving us time to be sad, for leaving and sending notes and food and treats and gifts and pictures.  You have collected comfort and warm memories and wrapped us up in tight swaddles of love, like a cast protecting our broken hearts.  Thank you - deeply.  One day, I hope you know how much it has meant to us.