i can’t imagine what’s going on up there right now is much different than this. i know you are holding our baby tight. thank you.
(aunt ali wanted adam to take this to be sure she got a picture with baby turtle. i’m so glad we did…)
it’s been two full weeks. somehow it feels like forever ago, but yet all of us feel like time has stopped. it’s this eerie feeling that i’m referring to as zombieland. we are all feeling numb. like the world is going on around us, but we are stuck in this place of vulnerability. the first 10 days all we did was cry around the clock. then this started. i know it’s part shock/denial and me trying to distract myself to the point where if i don’t acknowledge she’s gone, then she’s not. but then i’m forced back to reality when i over hear nori in the other room say things like, “ali, sit here! and pats the chair.” the other day she looked at this pillow and says, “ali’s pillow mommy (it actually was), ali go sleep for a loooong time. ali in heavens” she must have remembered adam telling her that at the layout. i have to explain over and over to nori that ali can’t come over anymore and fight through the tears that cripple my voice as i try to speak. i’ve tortured myself by hanging her prayer card on my bathroom mirror, where i see her beautiful face and smile and then “those dates.” the biggest reason i still haven’t read her obit because seeing those dates feels like a punch to my gut.
while in this zombieland, i keep finding myself staring at nothing, blanks walls or mostly at my computer screen but it’s a solid blur. i snap to and wonder how much time has passed. though today is better, i still feel this overwhelming sense of carelessness. like nothing going on around me matters. i hate it. in high school we studied the 5 stages of grieving and i know my body is going to go through them as long as it needs and i can’t control it. but this stage needs to pass because turtle is coming any day now. eeek!
tuesday, mom, britt and i went to ali’s to help ben clean up some more of her stuff. not bagging it up, just putting it away where it belongs in drawers and closets. different items set each of us off, but because of this numbness, it wasn’t as hard as i imagined. as i cleaned out one of her purses i found a bookmark someone must have given her. it read,
“And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished” phil 1:6
how fitting. missing you like you can’t imagine, sister. i love you.
heart, mel
