It's July 4th. I find the only reason to "celebrate" it is because I do love this country, but hate the administration. Anyway...

I've been a bit down lately. I miss my kid. I miss sending her memes, telling her I love her, texting about our favorite books or people we roll our eyes at, going to see Garth every few years. I miss her laugh, her contagious happiness, her smile, her frustration with the word. It's hard to live without her, but I have to. I choose to live by her motto. For today. Tomorrow is a problem for tomorrow. 

New Poem written on March 26, 2025

 imposter in grief

days pass without

you in the world

happiness and joy

faded as shadows

loss makes dark days

while life goes on around me

attempts are made

to be more ‘normal’

inside my soul 

is breaking apart

i am an imposter

living as human

 May 27, 2024

Thinking about you today. Not like you're ever NOT on my mind but today especially for some reason. Maybe because my birthday was a couple of weeks ago and I did NOT feel like celebrating at all. Maybe because I realize it's now been 7 months without you. It's getting a little easier but the hurt doesn't lessen. The crying jags are fewer and far between, but they still happen. I'm tearing up right now in fact. I just don't know how I'm supposed to survive for the rest of my life without my heart. And I'm scared about my own health. On one hand, I hope that I am okay and that what's running through my head is not going to become reality; but on the other, I hope it does so I can be with you. Catch-22. 

I love you. I miss you. Despite my personal beliefs that there is nothing beyond this life, I hope you're in a place that has a beach and white sand and endless fruity drinks and you're enjoying getting to know your great-grandma & great-grandpa and that maybe even you've met Michael and maybe even convinced your great-grandma to let you dye her hair pink or green. Be happy my baby. 

 Kate and Ryan on their honeymoon - a Disney Cruise - 2023

Holidays

 So, it’s the holidays and I just don’t feel like celebrating at all. Thank goodness for my aunt, cousins and sister. We decided that rather than doing the whole presents and dinner and what all, we would go low key with a brunch and game. It was nice and fairly quiet and not stressful. We followed that up with a low key girls movie night. 

 Loss. It's never easy. The loss of a child, the loss of a parent, the loss of a friend. Loss is a word that can encompass many, many things too. I've lost a child. I've lost children. One through the greed of others and one through the greed of cancer. I've poured out my feelings over the loss to the greed of cancer. Now I want to pour out my grief over the other. 

In January of 1990, I discovered I was pregnant. I'd only been married two short months and yet, here we were. I wasn't ready to be a parent, but there was joy. So much joy because I was selfish enough to think that for one moment, I'd finally have someone that would love me unconditionally. Someone who would depend on me and need me throughout their life. I did my best. I took care of myself, went to the doctor, took my vitamins, stopped smoking, never did drugs and generally tried my best to make sure my baby was happy and healthy. 

When you were born, I was so happy and you were so beautiful. This little, tiny, scrawling thing that had such a cute little bow mouth and this downy blonde hair. You smelled like hope. Hope for a better world, a better life. And when I took you home to our studio apartment and you screamed and cried because my milk wasn't coming in, I tried to feed you all the time. When we took you to the doctor and he said you weren't getting enough nutrition, I switched you to formula. When you started projectile vomiting that, we took you back and were told to switch to soy, we did and you handled that so much better. But...

We lost our apartment because I wasn't working. The man was trying but not enough so we ended up in a shelter - better than the alternative but not much. When he took you out during the day while I was at school trying to build us a better life, I didn't think anything of it. Somewhere around November of that same year, things were becoming bitter and less joyful. Then, disaster. 

A visit from CPS. I was informed that the man had been hitting you. I never saw this and there were no bruises to explain away. The next thing was your nutritional needs. Somehow the medical records had been accessed (this is before HIPPA) and I was accused of malnourishing you. And given a choice. The choice between placing you in foster care or with a relative. I asked what the chances of getting you back were. They said with CPS, it could be a year or more; with a relative, essentially, we could get you back any time. For me, I thought it was an easy choice. Little did I know what would happen next.

Hard Choices

 So, I bought this book, "Burn After Writing" off Amazon. I'm not sure it was worth $16.99 but it's been pretty interesting. It's a book to write in and it gives you these little prompts so I thought I'd use one and expand on it. Here we go.

Pg. 29. The hardest choice I have ever had to make.

Sending my son to a residential treatment center. I've written about this before but it really was a tough decision. Making the decision took a lot of thought, heartbreak, courage and desperation. I couldn't think for the life of me how I could have raised this sweet terror. And what I could have done to cause it. After holding a knife to his sister's throat, I had to keep both my children safe and this was the only option I could figure out. I hate the events that transpired after, I hate what happened as a result and I hate that I no longer have a relationship with my son. I hate it because he's created this narrative in his own head that I sent him to a psych ward and abandoned him. I hate it because sometimes I find it easier to say, "Oh well" and not worry about what he's doing any longer. I also hate the fact that no matter how much I still love him, I know that he'll never forgive me. I also know that the events that transpired are not my fault and that I can't control the outcome. So all I can do is deal. 

That's the hardest choice I've ever had to make. 

Thanksgiving

 It's Thanksgiving. My first holiday without you. I'm just sitting here in my house by myself watching movies to try and forget that you're no longer here. This time of year will never be the same again. I hate this holiday now. 

Everyone is posting on Facebook and everywhere else about the holiday and how grateful they are for their friends and family and all whatever, but I don't feel grateful. I feel empty and hollow. A shell of a person who no longer has any ounce of gratefulness in her. How can I? My sunshine is gone.