Celebrating the First Time Without Her

I thought that her birthday would be harder and Easter would either be just as hard or maybe even a little easier; I’m not overly religious, neither was she, so I didn’t think Easter would be harder. But I didn’t guess-timate on that one all too well.  I knew it would be hard, but I didn’t think it would be like that.

Being in her house, without her but with all of her misc. stuff was hard. Really, really hard.  I found myself sitting at the dining room table, while Emily played with a plate, just staring at her empty chair with the place setting in front of it.  My dad put it there and I think he will for every dinner we have there.  He doesn’t want her to be gone, no more than the rest of us do; there were times that I thought she was going to come around the corner from the kitchen and complain about how my dad put the forks on the wrong side of the plates again.  I found myself choking back tears more times than I can count.  Her empty chair, her tea cup still in the dish drainer next to the sink, her clothes on her side of the bed that haven’t moved since she went into the hospital and have (I think) multiplied as my dad has gone through things, her books, her movies, her glasses, a piece of mail with her name on it.  Yesterday just made me feel the emptiness of the void that has been there since she hasn’t been here; it felt bigger and more empty being in a place that she used to be in every time I was.  And that sucked and continues to suck today, and I guess it started on Saturday and just kept sucking until right now.  I had a bright spot in the weekend – a very nice date night with my significant other and no toddler, which was a very nice distraction from the crap that was the rest of my weekend.

Her birthday could have been worse, I guess. Standing in front of her ‘drawer’ with my dad and my sister, looking up at her name and years, remembering them putting her casket in there that holds her body.  I’m sure this is morbid but I wonder what she looks like now. There was a time when I knew what she would look like no matter how much time had passed, but that all ended a while ago I guess.  If I see her again, I hope she looks the way that I want to remember her and not the way that I do remember her.  That’s not a pretty picture.  My dad sees her sometimes, sitting on the couch watching TV with him.  I hope it’s real and I hope she is with him; all this time I have wondered why I haven’t felt her with me, so maybe that’s why.  She’s with him, watching over him, because he’s the one that needs her the most right now.  I get it, I do and I don’t want to be selfish but man do I wish she would toss a little my way, too.  I miss her so very much and I want her to see Emily SO much and to just see her, or to know that she was there – anywhere – would be a great comfort.  And right now, some comfort would be nice to have.