Looking back over my posts, I see I have written about a lot of things other than my daughter.
When I write about her, it is often very difficult. So if you wonder why I get off track, wonder what’s up with the silly family stories: It’s a matter of self-care. Some self-indulgent writing about happier days, simpler times, and adventures with friends takes my mind off the weight of care giving, and off the pain of loss.
Now, do NOT imagine that my life is a misery – it is not. I actually consider myself very (undeservedly) blessed.
I have friends who don’t get to choose to take any kind of break. Their reality is 24/7, ongoing, never-ending care-giving. They have my respect and admiration. I remember having my daughter here at home…the constant stress, the heavy weight of that responsibility.
I have friends who have suffered the worst possible loss, the death of a child. I cannot fully comprehend the enormity of that grief. I still get to see my daughter, and although the future for us is not what I imagined when she was little – she is still here, on this earth for me to hug, and I am very, very grateful.