One month. ❀

This morning I woke up to sunshine. It's not what I expected today. I expected dark cloudy skies, wind and rain and maybe snow, freezing all it touches. But instead, it's warm (for November) and sunny. I guess it parallels this past month in a way. I thought, on Oct. 3rd, that I would never recover from this pain, I thought that on Oct. 9th too, at the burial, and the following week. But then something started happening. I swear it's because I started praying hard than ever, just for God to give me peace, to heal my heart and my spirit. I complained to my dad that He wasn't working fast enough. So, my wise father asked if I had given my pain fully to God. Well, no. Then he reminded me of a little poem magnet we had stuck on the fridge growing up:

Like children bring their broken toys with tears for us to mend
I brought my broken dreams to God because he was my friend
And then instead of leaving Him in peace to work alone
I stuck around and tried to help in ways that were my own
At last I snatched them back and said "How could you be so slow?"
"My child," he said, "what could I do? You never did let go."

(Author unknown)

Indeed. It's a lot like that. I think part of my spirit is recovering slowly because I feel like maybe I can make a difference, like I can do something. That will come in pain. That's not to say that I'm feeling no pain and that I'm back to my old self. There is no old self, that's how deep this wound was felt. She is dead. I am in the process of rebuilding this new me. I was talking to a friend the other day and I kept saying, in conversation "Before...you know..." about things I had said and done and felt before we lost Evangeline and realized that I see life as very B.E and A.E. Before we lost Eva and after we lost Eva. I had one such life change when my parents split up, but that was over 10 years ago, and luckily, while that feeling of before/after divorce is still there when I think about those days, it's no longer a reference point in my daily life. It will remain to be seen whether this will be.
I miss her so. I miss everything about her, even the things I had dreamed for the future. Her death took away a chunk of my life, part of "what lies ahead" is gone and can never come back. There will always be scars. Perhaps, like an episiotomy, when the heart rips apart, the scar is stronger, heals better, than with careful little cuts. Maybe I'm just lucky that I know how to grieve.  It was hard to fall asleep, alone, last night (we are back to the night shift for Patrick) as I kept thinking, "one month ago, I was in a hospital bed and the world was crashing down around my heart"...

But today, I see the sun shining and feel like Eva is smiling and playing up there and that while all is not well, maybe all is at it should be.

♥