Liquid Sunshine

This evening I decided to sort through this huge pile of Insurance and medical documents, pamphlets, equipment guides, prescription information, medication charts, disability and PT/OT paperwork, discharge papers and multiple books on heart defects. This pile collects dust on my desk and stares at me regularly.  I know I don't need to keep any of this but it's like tossing out a part of her.  These papers are a tangible part of Zoe's short time on this earth.  They are proof of what she endured, what we experienced... what we lived through.  It's like all of the alarms I keep on my phone, reminding me to run her 90 ml feeds every three hours and meds at 9am and 9pm each day.  It's like the container of her diapers that still sit in our family room and all of her clothes still neatly folded in their drawers.    

How can something like a pile of papers knock the wind out of you?  After a good cry, I decided to keep the ones that I felt were most important to me.  I then threw the rest away.  I felt like I was taking a healthy step.  Now I can't promise I didn't consider going out to the garbage bin and digging them back out but ultimately, I feel like it was something I needed to do.  

Tonight's bedtime conversation...
Me: Who do we remember on Easter?
Lulu: Jesus!
Me: And that He died for us and was resurrected.  Do you know who comes on Easter?
Lulu: ZOE!
Me: The Easter Bunny
Lulu: Awww... I want Zoe to come on Easter.

Today has been an emotional day... not for any particular reason, but just because grief comes when you least expect it.  When it does come, it's like time hasn't passed and the shock of losing her is overwhelming.  It feels like I just held her for the last time, watching her take that last breath.

I wish there was a timetable for grief.  I wish I knew that at a certain point, it would hurt less and I was in control of my emotions.  But it doesn't work that way.  Most days, I feel like I'm in control but every once and a while it shows up unannounced and uninvited   The tears come and go at random and all I want to do is snuggle Londyn in my comfy bed.  Tonight was no exception, as I let my 3 year old stay up until 11:15pm, to do just that.  We laid in bed watching Netflix, laughing and snuggling.  She is truly one of my greatest comforts and a tender mercy from my Father in Heaven.

Tomorrow is a new day and I could really use some sunshine... but the Oregon forecast doesn't agree.

Oh well, there's always liquid sunshine... aka Diet Coke.  With a day like today, I've exceeded my DC limit.  Good thing there's only 6 more minutes left of this day.