Wow. I'm so glad April is finished. You'd think that March would be the most difficult month for us, but April was actually worse this year. My theory is that because Grandma Nockerts visited us during the last week of March, we enjoyed our time with her and sort of put off grieving your second anniversary in heaven. Then she flew back to Texas, and it hit us in it's entirety.
I've cried a lot since the end of March. In fact, I gave a new meaning to the phrase "April showers." Gobs of little things have come up this month that have exacerbated our already raw emotions, and I'm afraid I haven't handled them well at all. For instance, Daddy and I needed to get some paperwork together for a project, which included two years of former tax returns. When I pulled out the 2012 and 2013 returns, this is the first thing my eyes went to:
I'm not sure what was worse,
seeing "DIED" next to your name on the 2012 return
or not seeing you at all on the one from 2013.
Either way, I cried.
Something as negligible as a tax return, a harmless question, a hastily scrawled note or muttered phrase, one little line in a song, a promise not fulfilled, a seemingly innocuous movie reference, news of a development I didn't expect, a misunderstanding with a colleague at work,...moreover all the obvious triggers like a pregnancy or birth announcement, seeing the last name of our NICU doctor on a standardized test booklet, or the myriad "sisters" memes on social media that remind me Joslyn will never truly understand what it means to have a big sister to protect her, teach her, and love her. These are the mundane things in life that send a bereaved mother over the edge. So many things. Every. Day.
I'm fairly confident that many people in our lives think we're "okay" now. We go about our daily activities with relative normality. But they don't see the anxiety, they don't see the tears, and they don't realize how fragile we are emotionally. I used to consider myself a pretty resilient person. Not any more. I overreact to situations, or I freeze and don't react at all. Then when I get to a more private place, I rant, scream, and/or cry. At least I'm getting it out of my system, but then I'm left with regret at the way I reacted (or didn't react) in the first place. [This is probably the stuff I should be unloading on a therapist not a 2-year-old, huh? Fair enough. I'll stop now, but it's making me feel a little better, so I can't promise it won't happen again. ツ]
So, it's May now. April is behind us. I don't know why I think the flipping of a calendar page will make everything better, but I have faith in new beginnings. A new month, season, school year...they all hold promise and hope. I'm not sure what this month will bring, but I'm banking on the "May flowers." We've had enough rain.
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| On a happier note, here's your baby sister on her 9-month birthday. Though you can't be here to protect her on earth, I sure hope you're watching over her from heaven. She needs you. We all do. |
Thank you for listening, Bug. I love you and miss you more and more with every passing moment!
Love,
