I had this whole blog planned about how we took the kids to the pumpkin patch, complete with pictures and I will still write that, but not today. Today, oh man, today is something different.
Carolann, Jeff's sister, my sister, passed away.
My house is quiet. My kids are asleep. My husband is in Utah. Everything is dark, so dark I cannot see the end of it. I know it's there, but my heart is too sore to find it.
It should be against the law. It's not fair. I am angry and sad and I don't understand. I feel like I am putting together a puzzle with only purple pieces. I should be asleep. I've been up since three this morning, but every time I close my eyes all I can see is her face. And the faces of my nieces. Oh, how my heart aches for them. I know they are in good hands; Christie is exceptional, Brian and Jenny are gems; I know the girls will never not know what a wonderful person she was. Yet, I see them graduating and marrying and having babies of their own without being able to hold her hand. So, we will hold them. Hold them close and tight and tell them stories of all the tears that she shed for them, all the small wonders she grasped so they could see, all the times the light and love shown from her face just to look at them.
I miss her. I opened my phone to call Christie and Carolann is listed above it. I open my computer to type and the screensaver is on a picture of her and Owen riding the Ducks in Seattle. In spite of all that we have seen and done together, I loved her more. So much more. There was so much strength in her, so much beauty, so much joy. I want to scream and break things. I want to look at people in the streets and ask them how dare they keep on living when she is not. But I cannot. These things will not bring her back. Nor would I, even if they did. I want to, but I cannot. She is starting over. Not was, but is. She was in love and beautiful. She had her girls. Putting things in their place. I can't see her, but I know she's there. Moving on to bigger things and better things, things that sparkle, things that shine, things that we aspire to.
So I will hold her close and tight and tell her that it's okay, that we're not okay, but will be. I will hold her close and say I love you. And see you later.


I know! I know!

I have been failing my New Year's Resolution to write the blog every week uber spectacularly. I have a good one planned, but it is mid-term time and I just never seem to get around to uploading the pictures that must go with it.
Seriously, it's a visual.
Anywoot, hang on tight gang. I promise this weekend. In the meantime, here's my yellow watermelon picture.