Tuesday, February 4, 2014

A Gift to My Daughter, A Gift to Myself

A snow angel for my baby girl
Lately it seems every day is just as hard as the day before, if not harder.

I try to find a balance between letting myself feel: the sadness, the pain, the anger, and keeping myself busy with things I enjoy: friends, books, crafts, yoga, my husband.

But it isn't easy, there is a big black hole inside me that I can't fill. I keep imagining my heart falling out of my chest, blood and all.

People tell me to be strong. I try, mostly for Alex, but also because I know that there are so many people and so many things I still love about life. I know one day I will be happy and life will be good again, though it will never be as good, as absolutely perfect as the 9 months of bliss I shared with my husband and my daughter in 2013.

People tell me to honour Anya. I've thought about this phrase a lot: Honour Anya. What does that mean? I can't honour Anya, she isn't here.

Yesterday, walking through the pristine fresh snow, soaking in the bright rays of the afternoon sun, I finally figured out what honouring Anya means to me.

It means making sure that Anya is a force for good in my life. Remembering all the love she brought to our family. Remembering to appreciate all the wonderful people and things around me.

Most importantly of all, honouring Anya means refusing to let the pain of her death overshadow the love and joy of her life. It means not letting Anya's death become the moment when my life fell apart, and I couldn't put it back together again.

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