Does it really get easier?

For weeks now I've been consumed reading this http://thespohrsaremultiplying.com blog, blogs linking to it, everything I can to immerse myself in this little girls story. I didn't know her, but I feel like I know her from reading and watching video and looking at happy, adorable and beautiful pictures. I've cried, oh how I've cried. And I've once again been amazed by the power of the internet. I've worn purple, I've cried and smiled as I watch the purple flowers in my yard, and each time I've thought of Maddie.

It's not the first time I've seen the power of the internet--I work from home because of the internet (literally it's what the company I work for does. I found my husband online back before it was fashionable. Or acceptable even. I've found my car, our puppy, and 2 houses online. I've made fabulous friends, and lost some less fabulous ones.

Hmmm wait I had a point here and I totally went off target. Oh, right, grief. I read each post of her parents coping with their grief as best they can. I read the comments and I selfishly hope all these people who say "it gets easier," are right. Not just for the Spohrs, but for many of us.

My mom was everything to me. She was my #1 supporter, my best friend (even through the teen years) the one absolute ROCK in my life. She died 2 years 7 months and 6 days ago. And, if being able to tell you down to the day, how long it's been might give you an idea that I am no where NEAR being "better" or finding it "easier." Yes, I don't break down in tears 20 times a day. But, I also don't really feel the joy. I used to live, now I exist. But, I exist with a piece of me (technically I guess I'm a piece of her, but semantics right?) missing.

She's part of another story I'll be trying to tell on this blog, but I'm just getting my feet wet here, I have to work up to that.

But back to my point, I hope all these people are right and it gets easier, because I've tried therapy, I've tried overworking to the point where it's physically bad for my health and I'm not finding it easier.

Who are you and what have you done with my husband?

My husband called a while ago to check in with "the love of his life." Awwww, isn't that sweet? Well, yes it is sweet. But it's also so highly unlike him that I feel the need to take his temperature when he gets home from work.

Don't get me wrong, he's a very sweet guy, but not...shall we say, overly effusive? He's sweet in ways like knowing I don't sleep well (if ever) he got silk sheets for my birthday to try to make me more comfortable. He's thoughtful. But calling to check in with the "love of his life?" Not so much.

Maybe it's like when he ate salad and he was going for shock value. Still, I think when he gets home I'll check his temperature....

The house blues

We're trying to sell our house. We're fortunate to be in a position where it's not a necessity. We have good equity. But it's a tough time to sell a house that has all it's parts (and then some) when you're going up against short sales and foreclosures. Still, it makes sense for us, at this time to try to get out of Dodge and leave this state of which we are not fond.

Even if we didn't want to go home* this house is too big for just us. This house was full of hope, of what might be, of what could be. As I write this I sit in the room I always thought "could be" the nursery. That's not going to happen now. And for 2 people this house is simply too big. This house screams "Family". 3 empty bedrooms. A family room and living room. A yard. It's too much for just me to take care of while working full time. It's not where we want to be. We don't have ties here. Actually, we don't have ties anywhere, which is a kind of morose post for another day.

For now I cross my fingers everytime some family comes to look at this house and hope they'll buy it and we can leave and go find something that fits a little better.



*Home is a relative word. We actually are not from where we want to move, the city, just the state.

For Maddie Spohr

For over a week now I've been reading, devouring really, everything I can find on the angel I never knew, but feel I did. Seeing her smile, her love for her little white dog (something we would have had in common). I have laughed and cried and laughed again while reading her parents blogs at www.thespohrsaremultiplying and the www.newbornidentity.com. I am in fact, "just another one of the faceless, namesless people who left comments, donations etc." And while I have read blogs for years, I was finally inspired to write my own. And it's all because of little Maddie story and Heather's amazing writing prowess. Because of reading the blog--all in one sitting--twice because I was that compelled I realized that what people have been telling me for years about getting the pain out there and not bottling it up is really for the best. The amazing attitude the Sporhs have, and the outreaching of support acrross the blogosphere made me realize it's time to be brave, and rethink and relive the pain. And maybe find some of my trademark humor along the way. For that, and for sharing Maddie with the world I want to say a huge thank you to Mike and Heather, as well as yet another nameless, faceless, person on the internet sending heartfelt condolences, virtual hugs for you and Rigby. I made my brand new blog as purple as I could as I learn to do this, my dog is wearing a purple collar daily, and I'm wearing everything purple I own. I watch the flowers fall from the bushes in my front yard (also purple) and I think of Maddie This little girl I never knew touched my heart and my soul.