there is always a piece missing
It's been more than four years since Abby died....and even those two words "Abby died"....still take my breath away. I still think of Abby dozens of time every day but the thoughts don't knock me over anymore, they are more like a gentle breath of wind. I was talking about Abby with a dear friend last week and I slipped into my usual detached emotional state to do it. I want to be able to talk about Abby without tearing up, and most of the time, talking about Abby is as natural as talking about my living children. But sometimes I feel the grief and loss so deeply, it feels like it just happened.
My baby died.
I buried my daughter.
I held my child's lifeless body in my arms, for hours.
It's a horror that no parent ever wants to face, and in a strange, unexplainable way, I sometimes forget that it really is my experience. Sometimes I see it through another person's eyes and it's beyond heartbreaking, so far beyond any physical pain I've ever felt.
People used to suggest that I "get over it", even just weeks and months after her death. As much as I know that it's not something I'll ever "get over", I sometimes feel like I shouldn't still be grieving. I am still figuring out how to accept my grief as a part of my life - sometimes it's a very small part, and other times it feels huge and heavy. This week, it feels huge and heavy. What brought all this on? Another holiday, of course. As I mashed potatoes and stressed about...everything, I grouched and growled at my kids. I immediately felt guilty and then remembered writing this in an entry, almost exactly four years ago:
October 2006
"And, I'm thinking of Abby today. She would have been four months old tomorrow and I would have needed much more help getting the meal together if she was here. She would have been in my sling or a bumbo while I peeled potatoes and made stuffing, and I know I would have been eating with one hand after Jack cut up my turkey. Abby, you should be here. Nursing while I eat, getting sweetlet peas and bits of pie crust dropped on you from my one-handed attempts at eating. Your sweet milky smile would've been a big hit and you know that your Auntie Helen would have refused to let anyone else hold you. Auntie Helen and I were in the city together yesterday afternoon and as we talked about you, she cried all over again. Your death still breaks her heart and she really misses you. We all miss you, xoxoxo"
Kim is graduating this year and the grad plans are already underway. Kim is one of 6 people on her class' grad committee, we are planning on shopping for a dress before the end of the year, and we're visiting a potential university this week. Other than Charlotte's birth, Kim's graduation will the first (of many) major family events and celebrations that Abby will be absent from. My thoughts about Kim's graduation and flight from the nest is a whole other post, mingled with thoughts of Abby, my feelings of failure as a parent.....that post will come, eventually. But not tonight.