Sleeping doesn’t get easier and neither does waking up. Today we went and met with the Minister that will be facilitating your Celebration of Life. Chris is his name. Hes a nice person who comes from Kaki’s Unitarian Church in Santa Rosa. We spent what seemed to be four of the quickest hours of my life telling him all about you, how much you meant to us and the impact you made on this world. I felt like I wanted to stay and talk about you forever.
We drafted your Celebration of Life program, talked about How much you adored music and how being outside playing in the natural elements of dirt, bark and rocks made you so happy. We described it as your personal mediation. The way you’d pick the bark or sand, hold it in your fist high above your head and then slowly release it to watch it softly hit the ground. Mommy always found it fascinating and never did understand why you enjoyed it so much, but when your daddy said it was your form of meditation, it made more sense to me. I’m sure I’ll find myself doing it as a way of remembering you.
I miss you, Olivia.
I wish I could go back to Monday. I wish I could go back to putting you to bed, tucking you in and jumping up on your bed to give you a kiss goodnight. It was our typical routine and I didn’t know it would be our last.
Being surrounded by family and friends these last few days has really helped me from being recklessly emotional. Tonight someone said to me, “You’re stronger than you think you are.”
Comments like that make me wonder how well those closest to me really know me.
You were my life, Olivia. My life has been structured around your needs. Right now it is kinda the same. I’m focusing all the energy I would typically put into you, on your Celebration of Life. Once that passes and everyone goes back home to their “regular” lives mine will be forever different. I don’t know what to expect or how to make it work. All I really want is for you to be back in my arms, humming away, smiling at me or showing me to the door so you could go outside and play.
I miss my little girl. The beautiful one with the glasses and pigtails. The one who would yell if I didn’t have her breakfast ready on time.
I love you so much.