Most of us know the old adage "time heals all wounds". What amount of time does this mean when your child dies? This sage expression does not apply to me. Today is harder than yesterday. This second year without Bea is so much harder than last year.
The reality of losing Bea is just really starting to take hold. It's HARDER not to see her today than it was the day after she died. Because it's been so very long. The more time that passes the more I want to see her. It's a visceral need. I want to tickle her foot. I want to give her a hug. I want to hear her for real, not in a recording. But I can't.
For the last 18 months I've been able bear down and push past the gloomy moments. I'd have a good cry and feel better but never had a really sad day. Now I'm having sad days, even sad weeks. The grief that was so close to the surface has dug in deeper and sticks around. Recognizing that my grief is now becoming depression is very difficult. I don't want to admit it because I don't want to think that anything about Bea, even her death, could cause me any kind of pain. She was too wonderful and there's no way that she could ever hurt me.
Even with all of this sadness I am living a fairly happy life. I have a job I love, indulge in hobbies, hang out with friends, play with my son and his friends and do all the regular stuff a mom and wife does. So, how do I do it? How do I go to sleep feeling peaceful almost every night? How do I get up every morning and look forward to the day? Because the grief and sadness are still bearable. I look to the future with positivity and don't worry that I'll be sad again. Because I will. I'll have a moment of deep grief and cry for however long I need. Then I'll start thinking of the great life I gave my daughter and I'll cry again. But I'll get through that moment. This grief is simply evidence of real love.