Last night Luke, Little Brother and I went out for dinner. While we were waiting for our food I look over to my left and there is this most beautiful little girl with Down Syndrome. She had this sprout of a pony tail on top of her head that was simply adorable. She had a smile that just lit the room up. She was also about the same age Phoenix was when she passed. When they walked past our table as they were leaving I just burst into tears. Not pretty tears either. Ugly tears that made the waitress nervous.
This morning Bella (our cat) was laying at the foot of the bed. I nudged her with my foot. She felt cold. My heart stopped. I said her name. Nothing. I poked her. Nothing. At this point I am freaking out and considering waking up Luke to so he could ‘check’ on her. I gave her one more nudge. She slowly lifted her head and gave me this ‘why are you bothering me?’ look. Needless to say, I didn’t go back to sleep. Though, the stupid cat did.
So why did I share these two stories? To show that bereaved parents live in this nightmarish world. I am surrounded with constant reminders of what I have lost. That I am terrified of finding Little Brother or one of the cats dead.
Often, people will say to me, “You are doing great for just loosing a child.” Well, I might look fine, but I am not. Looks are deceiving. While every moment might not be a struggle, everyday is. While I am not physically stuck on the couch anymore (I have Little Brother to thank for that) mentally I have my days that I am. Am I okay? Yes. No. Ask me tomorrow.
I don’t want to end this post on a sad note, because at this moment I am not sad. However, I really don’t know how to end on a happier note. So, here is a picture of Phoenix with cake on her face.