Depending on which route we take we pass an old cemetery.
B: Mama, is that where baby sister is?
Me: No, Buddy. She's at cemetery on Main Street.
*Silence*
Me: Would you like to go see where her body is again?
B: Yes. Let's go tonight.
Me: Okay, Buddy, we can talk to daddy about it, but it probably won't be tonight.
This is not normal first day of school conversation.
Yet here we are.
Today could have been really rough.
The marker days I find myself on the edge and can topple at any moment.
I cried while I was getting dressed this morning.
I'm crying now.
The rest of the day just went on as usual.
At breakfast time I discovered our garage refrigerator had died.
We met our friends/neighbors (a gift from God, really) at a farm.
I ran Brady to the doctor to get his ear checked.
The boys relaxed and watched a movie while I cleaned and emptied the fridge.
I called the funeral home to discuss the headstone- not totally normal.
We went to a family night at church and sang together and learned about respect.
Craig got the refrigerator working again!
Today I worked really hard on my attitude.
My anger or anxiety has been so high.
The poor boys have been getting the brunt of it.
Somehow I morphed into a yeller - even before our loss.
Last night when I got in bed I cried.
I felt like the worst.mother.ever.
Today I tried to think before I would react.
Is this really a big deal?
Is there a positive?
I caught one of the boys with a handful of diaper cream.
Yesterday I would have been yelling.
Today I grabbed his arm and thought -
I just saved a diaper cream disaster from happening!
No yelling.
Just told him we don't play with diaper cream.
Cleaned it off.
The end.
It wasn't a perfect day,
but it felt life changing.
I don't have to respond in anger.
It doesn't have to be the end of the world.
My boys can be free to be little boys.
I can love, redirect, and discipline without yelling.
Tomorrow we have a few fun things scheduled in the day.
In the afternoon we are going to buy flowers.
Then Brady will get to go see where baby sister's body is.
I'm sure it will be hard.
I'm sure it will lead to a bunch of questions.
But he wants to go and we need to respect that
and help him heal and remember however he needs to.
On Tuesday a dear friend sent me a text that she left something at my door.
An artist from Australia took this photo.
My friend had it printed on a canvas for us.
It's just lovely.
I am still trying to figure out the perfect spot so it's still in the plastic wrap for now.
It's been four months.
It feels like one minute.
It feels like a hundred years.
