Sunday was an icky, cold, windy, snowy day. We stayed inside all day. We stayed in our pajamas all day. I tried to make it a fun day that maybe the girls would remember and try to recreate with their kids someday. We decorated the family ornament tree, we baked a new cookie recipe, we cleaned and organized, we got a ton of stuff done. It was nice.
It made me miss Izzy a bunch. I thought about how nice it would have been to have her chillin' in her high chair while we made cookies, and maybe we would have let her play with the dough to make her own wreath cookie. I thought about what her face would have looked like lit up with happiness and excitement at all the lights and sparkling on the trees.
I know that I will have these thoughts at every holiday, and birthday and that it won't stop, but that doesn't make it any easier. I think it makes it harder knowing that this is my life now. That everything is a little less amazing because I can't share it with everyone that I want to. I hope that it lessens, because I don't think I can still hurt this much in 50 years without being a little crazy.
I wonder too, what the girls will remember about this time, about this Christmas. I wonder if they think of her, but don't talk about her so that they don't cry or make someone else cry. I wonder if they think of her at all, and then to think that maybe they don't makes me sad. It's a never ending circle of sadness.
I should be happy that I got 3 weeks with her. I should be happy that I got that chance to know her. I should be happy that I know she heard us all say we love her. I should. It's hard to dig out that kernel of happiness in the middle of all the miserable fluff. So I'll just keep digging, and maybe I'll get there sometime.
It made me miss Izzy a bunch. I thought about how nice it would have been to have her chillin' in her high chair while we made cookies, and maybe we would have let her play with the dough to make her own wreath cookie. I thought about what her face would have looked like lit up with happiness and excitement at all the lights and sparkling on the trees.
I know that I will have these thoughts at every holiday, and birthday and that it won't stop, but that doesn't make it any easier. I think it makes it harder knowing that this is my life now. That everything is a little less amazing because I can't share it with everyone that I want to. I hope that it lessens, because I don't think I can still hurt this much in 50 years without being a little crazy.
I wonder too, what the girls will remember about this time, about this Christmas. I wonder if they think of her, but don't talk about her so that they don't cry or make someone else cry. I wonder if they think of her at all, and then to think that maybe they don't makes me sad. It's a never ending circle of sadness.
I should be happy that I got 3 weeks with her. I should be happy that I got that chance to know her. I should be happy that I know she heard us all say we love her. I should. It's hard to dig out that kernel of happiness in the middle of all the miserable fluff. So I'll just keep digging, and maybe I'll get there sometime.
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