One of those days

I talk about Mia a lot. Too much? I dunno. No one has given me a template on how to grieve for a dead daughter.

She is a part of me. It feels natural to bring her up and include her as part of my life. I am fully aware that this is not comfortable for some people. I don't know what my reaction would be if someone brought up their dead in conversations. It may not be polite, but her existence is too important to me.

Mia is my phantom limb. Everyday I feel her, as if she's there, and then I remember that I have to function without her. I am fully capable of living without her, but there is always that feeling of something that's missing. Something integral.
If I was missing an arm or leg people could see that I wasn't whole. They would know that extra effort was made everyday to continue on. Dead children aren't that obvious.

It's her time of year. Day of the Dead is almost here, and then December, her death day. Sometimes I feel like such a failure that I couldn't even give her a birth day. She was already dead when she left me. The regret and helplessness is overwhelming at times. Sad on top of sadness covered in melancholy dressing.

Then I have Leeloo who is loving and demanding and awesome. She fills me with this bursting kinda happiness. Everyday she is also her dead sister's echo. A reminder of where Mia would be, of how she would have grown. Such a burden that I can't shake off of her.

I have a lot. I am grateful. I am 95% happy most of the time. I am done with trying to wait for this sadness to fade. It is me. I have two daughters that teach me everyday. I have two daughters.

I will love will my whole being. I will live with every cell. I will move despite the ache that fills me, I will move because of it.

Day of the Dead

This was a big in the death year for our family. Mia, Pops, Papi. It seemed just as some healing began we were scraped raw again. I wish there was a pause button, some kind of universal time out that we could have taken for ourselves, but life didn't work that way. The dishes needed to be done, homework, dinners, family, friends - nothing stopped. Our pain was acknowledged, and sympathized with, but nothing was put on hold. It turns out there is no room for death in life. Death happens everyday, but life never skips a beat.

When Mia died I was in shock, by the time Ripley was born I was exhausted. I got home and had a non-sleeping newborn, and when she did sleep I stayed awake longer just to make sure she was actually breathing. We also had the boys at home, they were expecting two girls and we only came home with one, there were so many questions. On top of that family and friends all wanted to come by, which was lovely, but it meant the chaos had to be mostly controlled. It was, and is, busy. A lot of my grieving and healing happened in between the lines. There were many middle of the night crying sessions and tears alongside the incredible happiness of having a growing baby. Life moves on and we try to keep up.

I made a conscience effort this year to make more time for death. Scheduled time when our only purpose was to feel and share those feelings. One of those occasions for me was Day of the Dead. In Tucson there is the All Souls Procession that culminates around the traditional holiday. It has grown by tens of thousands and it's something I look forward to every year. This year D agreed to bring the boys so we could process together. There is something to be said about being completely surrounded by people who are paying homage to the deceased. It's powerful and amazing. It was a great reminder that we are not alone in grief - everyone has their experience. I am so happy that the boys had this chance to stand for our family - I'm so glad we could do it together.

Our masks.

Not scared of skull mommy.