Grief is a fickle thing. It can be all consuming or it can drift away for awhile. Last night it was all consuming. I grieved hard. When I woke up this morning, I was still exhausted. My eyes were puffy, my face was swollen, and I felt like crap. And I was still sad. Grief weakens you to the point that you don't know how in the world you are supposed to function and sometimes you don't function. Today was a day like that. Since last night I developed a cough and felt pretty bad. The baby even acted like he was coming down with something. I slept most of the day and had zero motivation to move. I was done. We all felt so rundown and sick that we missed the 2nd birthday of a really cute kiddo. I'm blessed that the people in our life understand and let it go when we miss certain events.
Around 2:30, Josh started insisting that we leave the house. I was 100% against this idea. He reminded me that I had a coupon for Joann Fabric and it might be good to get out of the house. I reluctantly agreed and got dressed. And I will even admit that I was wearing yesterday's clothes. Leaving the house seemed too daunting. Even Henry was being grouchy about leaving. We finally loaded up and stopped at the gas station for drinks before heading to the fabric store. A drink was promised to the baby before we left the house and he reminded Josh as soon as we got there. I was expecting an apple juice or water of some sort. Instead, my darling husband came out with a pint of RED FRUIT PUNCH! The jungle juice variety WITH NO SIPPY CUP OR SPOUT. I was suddenly removed from my funk and went into mom mode. What in the hell was Josh thinking? Did he not know Murphy's Law of Red Drink? He kept insisting that Henry didn't spill anything in the car and he would be fine. He had red drink IN MY CAR. I kept telling him that red drink is sure to spill. AND IT STAINS. My grief was disappearing rapidly as I started freaking out about red drink in the van. When I was 11, I spilled red drink on my mom's carpet and many years later it was still there. You can't remove that stuff. And sure enough, Henry spilled part of the drink on himself. Luckily he missed the interior of the car. I immediately removed the drink from the baby's now very sticky hands, and insisted we stop at another gas station so we could make a better choice. A few minutes later, my dear friend called and asked what we were doing. I told her about my husband's decision on the red drink and she started yelling, "DON'T YOU KNOW YOU ARE GUARANTEED TO HAVE YOUR CHILD SPILL IT OR THROW IT UP?!" Murphy's Law of Red Drink is known by all mothers. And pretty soon after the phone call ended, I realized my funk had lifted.
I spent the evening at my dear friend's house working on the chairs. We don't make a lot of progress each time. In all honesty, we spend a lot of time talking or laughing or eating tacos. I'm finding that these times spent over there are more therapeutic than any medicine or doctor. We've since nicknamed these nights "Upholstery and Tacos." I always leave feeling lighter. Listening to Catherine's best friend talk about my daughter and tell stories is always nice and she validates a lot of what I say and do as "Catherine Approved." Being over there removes me from the house and the sadness for awhile. It is interesting because my dear friend is named Katherine. Most times I just call her by her last name but there is something comforting about having another Katherine in my life that is helping me get through this time. She was one of the first one's at the house the day my girl died. She's shown up with dresses for the funeral, she brought me a carton of cigarettes, she has made me laugh, she sat with me at the band competition last night, and she is the one that handed me the pliers and wood chisel on that mental health day. She had a handkerchief ready last night when I started to break down and patted my back as I lost my crap at the competition. Going over there tonight to work on the upholstery and eat tacos lifted my mood more than anything else. Sometimes I laugh until I cry while over there. My Catherine was there a lot and so all my memories of her there are happy ones. It is nice to be in a space that she loved so much too. I feel her presence there and it helps more than anyone can know. But mostly it is the laughter and love and light that is over there that gets me through my darker moments. I have received a lot of gifts from my daughter over the last 16 years but I think my friendship with her best friend's mom is one of the best gifts she could have given me.
Around 2:30, Josh started insisting that we leave the house. I was 100% against this idea. He reminded me that I had a coupon for Joann Fabric and it might be good to get out of the house. I reluctantly agreed and got dressed. And I will even admit that I was wearing yesterday's clothes. Leaving the house seemed too daunting. Even Henry was being grouchy about leaving. We finally loaded up and stopped at the gas station for drinks before heading to the fabric store. A drink was promised to the baby before we left the house and he reminded Josh as soon as we got there. I was expecting an apple juice or water of some sort. Instead, my darling husband came out with a pint of RED FRUIT PUNCH! The jungle juice variety WITH NO SIPPY CUP OR SPOUT. I was suddenly removed from my funk and went into mom mode. What in the hell was Josh thinking? Did he not know Murphy's Law of Red Drink? He kept insisting that Henry didn't spill anything in the car and he would be fine. He had red drink IN MY CAR. I kept telling him that red drink is sure to spill. AND IT STAINS. My grief was disappearing rapidly as I started freaking out about red drink in the van. When I was 11, I spilled red drink on my mom's carpet and many years later it was still there. You can't remove that stuff. And sure enough, Henry spilled part of the drink on himself. Luckily he missed the interior of the car. I immediately removed the drink from the baby's now very sticky hands, and insisted we stop at another gas station so we could make a better choice. A few minutes later, my dear friend called and asked what we were doing. I told her about my husband's decision on the red drink and she started yelling, "DON'T YOU KNOW YOU ARE GUARANTEED TO HAVE YOUR CHILD SPILL IT OR THROW IT UP?!" Murphy's Law of Red Drink is known by all mothers. And pretty soon after the phone call ended, I realized my funk had lifted.
I spent the evening at my dear friend's house working on the chairs. We don't make a lot of progress each time. In all honesty, we spend a lot of time talking or laughing or eating tacos. I'm finding that these times spent over there are more therapeutic than any medicine or doctor. We've since nicknamed these nights "Upholstery and Tacos." I always leave feeling lighter. Listening to Catherine's best friend talk about my daughter and tell stories is always nice and she validates a lot of what I say and do as "Catherine Approved." Being over there removes me from the house and the sadness for awhile. It is interesting because my dear friend is named Katherine. Most times I just call her by her last name but there is something comforting about having another Katherine in my life that is helping me get through this time. She was one of the first one's at the house the day my girl died. She's shown up with dresses for the funeral, she brought me a carton of cigarettes, she has made me laugh, she sat with me at the band competition last night, and she is the one that handed me the pliers and wood chisel on that mental health day. She had a handkerchief ready last night when I started to break down and patted my back as I lost my crap at the competition. Going over there tonight to work on the upholstery and eat tacos lifted my mood more than anything else. Sometimes I laugh until I cry while over there. My Catherine was there a lot and so all my memories of her there are happy ones. It is nice to be in a space that she loved so much too. I feel her presence there and it helps more than anyone can know. But mostly it is the laughter and love and light that is over there that gets me through my darker moments. I have received a lot of gifts from my daughter over the last 16 years but I think my friendship with her best friend's mom is one of the best gifts she could have given me.
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