I'm Not Sure HOW I Feel
Tomorrow is HHD 2014. I was feeling fine up until about an hour ago. I'm not quite sure what has happened between then and now, but I'm feeling uncertain and terrible with a strong since of loss and upheaval.
My girls are playing with laundry baskets and scurrying around. They've done their part to help clean up any messes. So it's naught to do with them.
I was paying bills, and goodness knows watching the money disappear almost as quickly as it arrived is never an easy thing. And, B and I are talking about the future, which I find a bit unsettling. Plus, there's just the fact that tomorrow is what it is.
I wanted a photo of my sweet Angel Monkey for the post, but going to that day to find photos may not have been the best idea. I didn't read the post. I just found photos. But, as beautiful and lovely as these photos are, they're hard to look at because I remember. I remember that awfulness of the day, not the joy. For, there was joy there as the day started.
I look at these photos and realize this sweet baby will NEVER be one of those big thirteen year old girls with the long lean bodies I see at swim meets. I HATE not knowing what she would look like. I HATE not knowing where her talents would lie and what she would enjoy doing. I HATE not knowing who she would be as a teen. I know there would be drama (for Miss Monkey was truly drama personified), but would there not be wonderful times as well? I HATE not knowing them. I HATE not having her to still snuggle against me. Would she still dislike thunder storms, or would she (as I did), learn to love them and embrace them in all their raw energy and power? Would she still want to snuggle and cuddle or would she be one of those stand-offish "Gee Ma, don't embarrass me!" sort of children?
The not knowing...that's the part that makes all this so hard. For the past few years, it hasn't seemed so bad. Sure, she would have been growing and changing, but it wouldn't have been the same. There's something about having been around so many 12 and 13 year olds of late that remind me what I'm truly missing. The change from tween to teen seems like such a jump somehow and I've missed it all.
This isn't to say there hasn't been joy and happiness and wonder these past seven years, for there has been. Well, maybe not that first year, that first year really was more about survival than anything else. But, the following years have been ones of beauty and wonder, because, even though you don't believe it when it first happens, life does indeed go on, and it is in fact still worth living.
And, really, that's what these past seven years have been about, finding the wonder and the beauty and the joy in the world around us and honoring our Hannah by living the fullest lives we can.
So, tomorrow, we'll head once again to the Pork, Peanut and Pine Festival (how can you not love the name?). We'll cross the James on the pixie boat and look for beauty and wonder as we visit Chippokes once again.
We might sparkly ourselves up a bit. We'll definitely be looking to perform an RAK or two and find ways to make the world more beautiful. As always, we invite you to join us as we honor the memory of our sweet girl.
My girls are playing with laundry baskets and scurrying around. They've done their part to help clean up any messes. So it's naught to do with them.
I was paying bills, and goodness knows watching the money disappear almost as quickly as it arrived is never an easy thing. And, B and I are talking about the future, which I find a bit unsettling. Plus, there's just the fact that tomorrow is what it is.
I wanted a photo of my sweet Angel Monkey for the post, but going to that day to find photos may not have been the best idea. I didn't read the post. I just found photos. But, as beautiful and lovely as these photos are, they're hard to look at because I remember. I remember that awfulness of the day, not the joy. For, there was joy there as the day started.
I look at these photos and realize this sweet baby will NEVER be one of those big thirteen year old girls with the long lean bodies I see at swim meets. I HATE not knowing what she would look like. I HATE not knowing where her talents would lie and what she would enjoy doing. I HATE not knowing who she would be as a teen. I know there would be drama (for Miss Monkey was truly drama personified), but would there not be wonderful times as well? I HATE not knowing them. I HATE not having her to still snuggle against me. Would she still dislike thunder storms, or would she (as I did), learn to love them and embrace them in all their raw energy and power? Would she still want to snuggle and cuddle or would she be one of those stand-offish "Gee Ma, don't embarrass me!" sort of children?
The not knowing...that's the part that makes all this so hard. For the past few years, it hasn't seemed so bad. Sure, she would have been growing and changing, but it wouldn't have been the same. There's something about having been around so many 12 and 13 year olds of late that remind me what I'm truly missing. The change from tween to teen seems like such a jump somehow and I've missed it all.
This isn't to say there hasn't been joy and happiness and wonder these past seven years, for there has been. Well, maybe not that first year, that first year really was more about survival than anything else. But, the following years have been ones of beauty and wonder, because, even though you don't believe it when it first happens, life does indeed go on, and it is in fact still worth living.
And, really, that's what these past seven years have been about, finding the wonder and the beauty and the joy in the world around us and honoring our Hannah by living the fullest lives we can.
So, tomorrow, we'll head once again to the Pork, Peanut and Pine Festival (how can you not love the name?). We'll cross the James on the pixie boat and look for beauty and wonder as we visit Chippokes once again.
We might sparkly ourselves up a bit. We'll definitely be looking to perform an RAK or two and find ways to make the world more beautiful. As always, we invite you to join us as we honor the memory of our sweet girl.
Lordy...seven years...
We love you sweet Monkey Girl and miss you immeasurably.
We love you sweet Monkey Girl and miss you immeasurably.
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