It has been exactly 6 months since we lost her. I still love her and think about her every day.
The pain is still there, but less obtrusive, more like full bodied arthritis rather than a coma. But I’m getting better. Planning for our move has helped pass the time and given me a focus that I had previously thought impossible.
I still weep, but the jags are shorter and cleaner.
Last week, Dave told me that I was becoming a negative person, one filled with anger, fear and jealousy. Whereas I was once optimistic, my lack of faith was darkening my views and my attitude. He was right. I don’t want to be that person.
So I’m more conscious of how fortunate I am and how much my light our daughter brought to our life. I’ve started talking to her to help strengthen me. “Hi Isla. I love you and miss you. I’ll try to have a good day and hug your daddy a lot.”
Lara mentioned that it does get easier. She’s right. I’ll have my bad days, intense and dark, but thankfully they’re shorter.
I bought these roses, similar to the ones I bought for her funeral, to have something beautiful that reminds me of her. I used to hate roses. Now I don’t.