I'm not sure what to feel...
A part of me wants to delve down into those feelings of sadness and hopelessness and loss and regret. I want to write and ramble about what I think and how I feel until it's all out of my system and I can breathe again. I want to share my pain with the anonymous people that the stat tracker says read this blog. Do you care, faceless people?
Another part of me feels like I need to curl up around my grief tomorrow. Tomorrow isn't a day to celebrate who my daughter was and is. Tomorrow is a day to mourn the fact that I'll never know what color her eyes are. Tomorrow is a day to long to hold her in my arms for just one more second of my life. I don't know that I want to get that sadness out of my system....maybe, just for tomorrow, I should just let the sadness win. I shouldn't look for relief from the pain. I think maybe she deserves to have me ache for her. More weight.
Another part of me wants to tell people about it. I want to stop random strangers on the street and tell them that my daughter is gone. I want to tell anyone who will listen, and maybe some who won't, that my angel is perfect but she's gone...she's perfect and she's gone...that seems like a contradiction. I need people to care. I know that it doesn't matter what other people think...I know it just matters that I know, and I remember, and I love. Still, it seems like the world should care. It seems wrong, in so many ways, that everyone is just going about their lives and my daughter is dead. I don't want to use a euphemism. It's a harsh reality.
So where does that leave me? I don't know. I don't know what to feel or how to act or what to say. I'm expected to get through my day like a normal human being tomorrow, but I don't feel like one. So many people in the world just don't understand. They can't. I could never begin to explain, and they wouldn't want to listen. So how do I function? I don't know.
I remember you, baby girl. I miss you, baby girl. I love you, baby girl.
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