Before 3/31/09 I would never have believed that I would be able to walk in a straight line, inhale and exhale without choking, or eat ice cream ever again after one of my children had died. Even though I totally believe you never know what you’re going to do in any situation until you are in that situation, I just couldn’t imagine life continuing without all five of us together. And so I exist today in total disbelief that I exist today. I have many things to occupy my days so that I don’t think about 3/31/09 every second of the day but each time there is more than one minute that is calm, THAT’s what I think of.
The mere fact that Christine is still walking around astounds me. It probably astounds her as much as I astound myself. We do have people who depend upon us and that keeps us walking. But each and every step is slow and painful. Each smile or laugh that bursts forth lacks the heart felt spark of it’s intention. I feel like I’m finding my way thought a forest, walking through the underbrush, no path to follow, stepping in holes, being blindsided by trees, and the darkness is constant, never changing. Maybe working on the scholarship fund will help, or at least change the view a little.
Last night at Mary’s party I talked more about Mary for longer than I have in months. It was good and horrible at the same time. Good because ….I got to talk about Mary. Horrible because… she was not there. She was posted on the walls, her name across the banners, stuck in the twilight zone watching us. Maybe she was smiling, maybe she was crying, I don’t know. But people were thinking about her and talking about her and that’s what counted. I wish I could have parties for her every 3 months for the rest of my life.
We got some money from Mary’s life insurance policy. There was a little extra because she was wearing her seat belt and the car had an air bag. Too bad they didn’t help her any. As I was reading the letter the term “death benefit” kept popping up. Isn’t that an oxymoron? How do death and benefit go together in the same sentence in this case? But I guess that’s the legalese. You know how when you’re sick to your stomach and waves of nausea sweep over you from time to time? That happens to me when I get a glimpse of the truth that Mary is never coming home again. It’s even hard to write. All of a sudden I read something or see something that triggers that feeling and WHAM! I’m out for the count.
I’m trying to be excited about all the things we are planning and doing for Mary. But every time I start to smile I get pang in my chest. I’m not supposed to be happy … because who can’t make her own party. And I don’t really want to have to have these parties. But I have to keep her alive, and so I will.