Beyond a Suit of Armor

Sorry I haven't written in awhile. I work through things while writing that I don't seem to manage in any other way, but the process hurts andsometimes it's easier to just avoid the pain. I was ready to write about a week ago, but then our computer crashed. Good news is we didn't lose any pictures or videos. My free advise for the day... back up your digital pictures! Onething I realized this last week after a conversation with a teacher at school is that in my closing the caring bridge site many of you did lose pictures. Caring bridge was where you went to "see" Grace. So today I'll post a couple pictures with the blog so you can see and remember her whenever you want to.

Yesterday I got to work in tears. My friends at work seemed surprised at them. Confession time... anytime I get in the car alone I cry. So does Joe. There is something about being alone without distraction that makes a chink in the armor we so carefully try to keep on at all times. Armor of protection containing the hemorrhaging wound in our chest where Grace used to be. If I see you out and about we will exchange the customary "Hi... How are you's?", and I will say fine and smile. But that is not the truth. If I answer that question honestly the armor will crack and I will start to bleed. The tears that fall will have nothing holding them back and you will be left gaping in isle 3 wishing you had never asked the question. This hurt is deeper and more consuming than I ever could have imagined. Sometimes I get angry that the world just keeps rotating, that people keep rushing by in an effort to go... where? Shouldn't the world have stopped spinning the day Grace took her last breath? She's only been gone 115 days...

I wake up without her here. I go to bed after only being able to see the pictures containing her image. The house is missing her noise, her breath, her hugs, and laughter. I know she is having the time of her life... but I will never be the same.

Of course time moves forward and the world keeps spinning. My husband, and 2 beautiful girls will continue to need me to be present here and not give in to the all consuming hurt. I will laugh and find joy in things. My life is not over, and I will move forward. In sharing this today, I don't want anyone to feel like they have to tip toe around me to keep me from falling apart. Truth is (in a public setting anyway) the armor is usually pretty strong. I know several people who have lost children lately and I think it helps those who love them to understand a glimps of what they are going through... the profound loss they experience. It does not go away in 115 days, or 2 years or a lifetime. I will only be whole again when all of us are holding each other in a heavenly family hug. Until then I will be working hard on keeping my armor intact.