I woke up this morning to my son screaming in my ear. Screaming through the monitor. For a while it was actually a part of the dream I was having and then slowly very slowly I realized it wasn't a dream; it was my son. So I woke up abruptly with a raging headache and pulled myself out of bed. I got to the kid's bedroom and listened. Not a peep. I opened the door and could see him peacefully sleeping. What a mean prank. I get back in bed. He starts yelling again. It's like he knows the moment I'm in bed. So now I'm sitting downstairs with a few minutes of wake-up time before the kids wake. My headache is still there and I can hear the rain outside.
I had been trying to contemplate why I have such a bad headache and then I remembered. I had cried myself to sleep last night; missing my sister so bad I could hardly breathe. It doesn't go away. The pain of loss is still fresh, still present, still heavy on my mind. Sometimes I'm able to push it back, to keep it under control. Other moments overwhelm me too much to not give in. It is often when I am lying in bed talking to Mike that I feel vulnerable enough to cry. I still can't cry as hard as I want to or as long as I need to like I could when she first died. Now I feel more like a fish gulping for air but I can control the body-wracking type sobs. I hold it in. Mike encourages me not to but I don't let it out. It's as though I fear that if I do the grief would be all-consuming and would never let me go.
I often think of the cousins my children are missing. first there was Sam. I imagine him loving my daughter and them being the best of friends. I know my sister loved children and I know she probably would have had at least one more by now, if not two. It's hard to imagine at times what life would have been like if she lived but I think so often of the ways I'm robbed by her not living. I missed her like crazy at the family reunion. I miss not talking to her on the phone. She always had a way of encouraging me and whenever I was crying knew how to make me laugh.
One of the things that continually breaks my heart is Libby (my daughter) having no friends. Everytime we are in the doctor's office or go to a play ground and she sees children she says, "my friends." She has Samuel which is a wonderful help but she has no one her age or older to play with or learn from. I'm almost tempted at times to put her in the nursery school at church during the week just so she could spend several mornings a week for a couple hours with other children. I have no idea how much it costs but it would be nice just for her to experience being around other kids.
When Mike is finished with his Master's the main plan would be to go to the U.K. (United Kingdom) for his Ph.D. In thinking about it we have discussed a little bit the idea of our children's education. When asked by someone if we would homeschool while we were over there I realized that I didn't want to if there was no community for it. I want my children to be able to interact with other kids. I don't want them to be alone and isolated in another country. It's very strange to even THINK about. We probably won't even be over there till the fall of '09 at the earliest. Which would put Libby as an almost 5 year old and Samuel at age 3 1/2.
As you can see my thoughts are scattered about this morning. I better make a cup of tea before this day wears on. My mom recently gave me a cute mug that has a picture of a tea bag on it and it says "Steep". I love it, especially as a tea drinker.
May this day be a day of peace. May this day be filled with joy in spite of the gloomy weather. May this day be a day of rest.