Halloween. Not ‘Happy’, just… Halloween. Today hurts more than I thought it would. All I can think about is life in the parallel universe that exists in my mind and heart. In that parallel universe, it’d be a fun, exciting day and I’d probably have Lucy dressed in a sweet little fuzzy honeybee costume, ready to go show her off to the world. I imagine we’d have gone up to the school first, to visit with Mindy our school secretary, and then buzz by Daddy’s classroom, maybe leaving candy behind for the students. We’d probably take a little road trip to visit with all of Lucy’s wonderful Grandmas, posing for pictures, and we’d all ooh and ah over how stinkin’ cute she is. There’d be sweet photos on Facebook and Instagram of her adorableness. We’d probably get home in time for a little nap and Daddy would be home soon after, we’d get dinner together and happily await the potential trick-or-treaters with the porch light on.

Instead, I am here alone, wishing for something that will never be, with tears in my eyes, a headache, and a broken heart. And this is only the beginning of the holiday season. I want to leave the porch light off tonight.

But, I’ll find a way to make it through this day, just as I have for the past 82 days.

Happy Halloween, Lucy, my sweet little honeybee. I love you so much.

Tomorrow, I’m embarking upon an impromptu road trip with a very kind acquaintance. It’s unlike me to do a lot of spontaneous things, but in keeping with the idea of trying to be open to things, I accepted the invitation. Shelly is mom to two of Chris and my former students, someone I’ve interacted with often since I’ve worked in our school building. After each conversation I’ve had with her, I always thought it’d be neat to get to know her more. She is very genuine, funny, and such a sweet person. In fact, she reminds me a lot of one of my dearest friends, Aimee. Shelly wrote to me and said that her oldest son was home for a college visit and they got to talking about how they wish there were something they could do for Chris and me because it’s just so sad and unfair. He wishes he could do something, but doesn’t know what to do; Shelly felt the same way. Long story short, Shelly takes a road trip each year to reflect, experience somewhere new, take photos, and to find peace for a bit. Her sister has experienced a loss like we have, and Shelly’s been very impacted by it; her niece passed around this time of year and so she also goes on this trip to ponder and reflect upon that. She invited me to go along for the ride for sight seeing and conversation. Our destination is M-22 in Northern Michigan with an overnight pit stop in Buckley, MI. The leaves are absolutely beautiful, so it will be a super scenic tour with lots of photo ops and we’ll make a quick trail stop at the Sleeping Bear Dunes. I am excited about the opportunity to get to know someone that I admire better and I know that she will have lots of great insight, life lessons, and encouragement to offer.

Now… for the nitty-gritty of some of what I face in my daily life now. Since losing Lucy, I’ve developed some crazy anxiety. This is not by any means a constant anxiety, but it often comes along with situations that are either unfamiliar, involve being in close proximity to newborns, or are unpredictable. I can say that I have learned to handle it well, but sometimes it pops up at silly times. Like this little road trip, for instance. Everything is fine, I know it’s going to be a totally fun and worthwhile experience, one I know I’ll be glad I had. However, as tomorrow approaches, I’ve been feeling a little more anxious. Some of that anxiety is already dissipating, but it’s still there. I think mostly because this is a little out of my typical comfort zone. But maybe I don’t even know what my comfort zone really is anymore because I’ve been so changed by this loss. SO, I’m doing this like I’ve been learning to do everything else lately- do my research, give myself a pep talk, and get on with it. I have already experienced the worst, so I can handle anything else. Especially positive stuff, whether it’s unfamiliar or not. I looked up our route, the Air bnb we’re staying at, and I’m fine. The only sticking point that my emotional brain is getting hung up on is that I’ll be away from Chris overnight.

**Timeout for a moment.** Scanning back through my previous posts, I realize that I haven’t really said much about Chris and I and how we’re doing as a couple. I can say with certainty that our situation has thankfully brought us closer. We communicate well, we support each other, we look after each other. We hug more than we ever did before. We always say what we really mean now. I know that Chris has been bearing more of a burden because he’s the stronger one… I can truthfully say that I don’t know how in the hell I’d get through this without him or if we weren’t as strong as we are together. He is my rock. Every single day, I am amazed by him. I know that we love each other so much and that we are okay because we have each other. Though our lives have been turned upside down and inside out, the things that have always been ‘us’ are all still there. The foundation of our relationship is solid and unshakeable. I know that not all couples who’ve lost a child are as lucky in that arena; I don’t know if I would have been able to cope if we were not. It’s been a long, long time since we were apart for a night (in fact, I can’t remember when… maybe before I moved in over 4 years ago?), so I don’t even know if I’ll be able to sleep! It will be weird, that’s for sure, but I think we can handle it. He’s totally encouraging me to go with Shelly and thinks it will be good for me. I have so much love in my heart for that man… he is the best husband I could ever have imagined. Pair that love with the love I have in my heart for Lucy, and that’s a whole helluva lot of love! The love outweighs the pain I feel, and as long as I can continue to remind myself of that, it’s going to be okay.

I should share too that Chris and I made it a point to spend some time together doing what we like to do, so we went out to brunch at this great little place a few towns over and enjoyed the drive together. It was a happy little bit, and I’m surprised to find that there have been more pieces of happy scattered here and there. I will count those moments as blessings in the midst of this fog. There’s always more love.

I’ll update about the road trip when I get home!

I took the dog for a drive this morning along the October-colored country roads. Even though there’s a distinct chill in the air, I cracked all of the windows and watched Waggs in the rearview mirror as she inhaled as much of the countryside as she could. I breathed deeply, attempting to do the same. I caught the fading scent of the grapevines and the richer smells of leaves and dirt; the vibrant colors of the sugar maples stole away the attention of my eyes. I was grateful for a moment of peace and a little space in my crowded mind. Since losing Lucy, I have tried to give myself permission to be open to new things; whatever makes me happy in the moment or feels right is what I should go with. I’ve always had an eclectic musical taste, though I do have my car favorites. I’ve been trying out new random radio stations on my drives, so if it feels right, I don’t change the dial. Not always a country music fan, I typically skim past, I stopped on a station… the song playing was Kenny Chesney’s “Don’t Blink”. It struck an emotional nerve as I listened to the lyrics… it’s really a great song, and made the all-to-relevant lesson I’ve recently learned about life and loss glaringly louder and clearer. It made me think about how quickly my life is going to continue to pass, and how I need to embrace the importance of living authentically. Of course I also found myself feeling the now familiar longing ache for my little daughter; I swallowed the lump in my throat and let the warm tears flood down my cheeks, as I thought of how she won’t ever live the quick hundred years that pass by in such a blink. Today the tears felt cleansing. It’s getting a little easier as time passes, but when that hurt sets in, no matter how fleetingly, it leaves quite a wake it it’s path through my heart. I’m trying to remain an ‘optimistic griever’ (see this article) I know that life will continue and that I will feel joy again someday. For me, the ultimate goal is to make the most of my life to honor Lucy. That’s the most important thing in the world to me. The idea that her gentle spirit is leaving little signs behind for me in the butterflies, dragonflies, and hearts is such a warm comfort to my broken heart. If her sweet soul could possibly be doing those things for me, of course she would want me to live well too; she wouldn’t want her mommy to be sad. Whether thoughts like that make me crazy or not, I will remain open to them and look to feel a lifelong connection with Lucy. On my ‘good’ days, it is easy to make that vow and try to do my best to live well. On the bad days, it definitely requires some work and tough love. I’m finding that the more productive and busy I am, the better my days have become. Lucy is on my mind pretty much at all times, but I’m finally at a point where I can feel okay about doing other things besides grieve. The best thing for me to do is just keep taking one step after another. By the way, Waggs and I are getting in nearly 4 miles a day with our walks! It feels good to be moving every day. I’m doing it for our Lucy!
My appointment with my therapist went well again today; she’s really helped me to put this grief journey in perspective, as hard as it is. She told me it looked like I had a sparkle in my eye today, that there was a much more positive vibe about me. I was taken by surprise by that, but I realized that maybe I’m doing okay with moving ahead. I’m looking forward to going back to work and having a greater purpose. I’m finding ways to share and be honest and authentic about my thoughts and feelings (yes, the delivery or way I share could use some tweaking probably, but hey I’m trying), I’m able to smile more, and suddenly, I feel okay about being out in public on my own now. The fear and vulnerability isn’t totally gone, but it’s definitely diminishing. I have to say that I am proud of myself for making it through each day with optimism still remaining in my heart, as tough as that is sometimes.