It’s hard to stay motivated when the only thing I want in life I can’t have. It’s difficult to do anything when the reason I did everything is gone.
It’s hard to concentrate when so many things can carry my mind down a path that robs it of any focus. It’s impossible to think when all I can think about is her and to think about her is to experience the loss.
The random show we watch on television might have a split second moment that reminds us of her or of the tragedy. Or that starts a thread that leads to the same.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t wonder, when I see other children her age, why it wasn’t them. She’d be walking now. Saying words.
Certain random things sometimes help lead me away into sanity. Sometimes the more narrow the subject, the better the results. The frustrating vagaries of CSS have never been so welcome.
I’m at once grateful and infuriated that life continues along with or without me. I can’t keep up, but bills continue to arrive, Penn’s school life continues apace, responsibilities don’t disappear, hair continues to grow, health problems don’t defer to grief.
You all have moved on, more or less. You might remember her when you read this blog or when I post something weird to Twitter. But we are still in the midst of this. It is only getting harder. The pain-over-time graph has not peaked. And there’s no way to know when it will, how far we are from that apex.