Kids do grow up fast...

Here it is. Five months since you passed away. I still don't know what to call it: died, became and angel, or a cloud? You should be learning to sit and stand, instead I wonder how close to going back to the Earth are you? I don't think it's morbid, just a fact of life. The "present" reality. Makes me kind of scared of the future. But since we are, I believe, programmed by evolution to hope and carry on, so shall I.


I don't understand how my grief can be getting better and harder as time goes on. Every emotion has its own wavelength, different feelings come at different times. Moments of intense grief are now alternated with good, even beautiful emotions. When I feel good, I see the tiniest changes in shades of colour, the harmony of sounds around me. The wind touches my shoulders and I think of Amelia, what if it's her little hand, gently caressing my shoulder. I smile as I love my daughter more and more...

But on moments like right now, like today, all I feel is shattered dreams on the edges of what should have been. I can't look back, it feels like I'm in a triangle, where looking back and looking forward still gets me nowhere. Sadly, being "in the moment" really sucks.

Since I'm a fighter, I'm looking for a way to relieve stress that works. None of my former methods of exercising or meditating work. Argh!!! Any advice? Please :)

Gave me hope

“In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.”

-Albert Schweitzer

The Sound Of Grief

I never imagined grief having a sound. Well, it does. From the first moment of my new life, when my brain was in denial and my heart was full of blind hope, my body was screaming inside. You could not hear it, I didn't make a sound, but I was screaming so loud it silenced the world around me.

It has been a constant in my life since. Walking down the street, past a playground, I silently scream until there is no playground. Smiling at friends, lying that I'm ok, I scream until they believe me and relax. In a grocery line-up, stuck between a newborn and a toddler, I scream until I run out of there, tears rolling down my cheeks. Not on purpose, not because that feels good, but because I can't help it.

Thankfully, there are days when those screams come out, when I can't keep it in anymore. Those terrifying animal sounds that come out of me are a relief. If you heard it, you'd probably think I've gone mad. And I have, I mean, I talk to birds and bees as if they are Amelia coming over to say hi, I hug the balloons I bring her to the cemetery, as if I'm hugging my baby. The reality is that, when I seem ok, I am most likely not; when I seem in pieces, I am whole. These bleeding heart screams take me back to the moment I met my angel. That is what it real, what is imprinted in the pieces of my heart, when it was breaking in a silent scream.

I guess it is true, I am a crying bear.