I don't have anything profound to say, but I guess I have to start somewhere. I sit here tonight, just me and my snuggly little one. Eli is the most snuggly baby I have ever known. He is crawling and mobile, but prefers to lay in my arms, sucking his thumb, and gazing into my eyes. God knew I needed this one.
I have so many days where the thought of Abigail being gone is just too much. On those days, I just pretend she isn't gone. Today has been one of those days. A day when the pain is too much to bear.
The rest of my family, except the one missing, are our trick-or-treating. The level of guilt I feel for not being with them is profound. I have never missed one minute of Halloween. I usually do it up big. I make themed costumes and everyone participates. We hit every single fall festival/halloween event I can find. And we always trick or treat till we drop. This year, we have done none of the above. The kids put together their own costumes, and I haven't been at a single festival. My sweet friend very kindly took my kids to an event so that would get to go to something, but that is it. We spent all day working on the house pretending it was just a regular day and then Michael took them out tonight while I sit here at home pretending it is just a break. We have done so little Halloween this year, my kids actually didn't believe me when I told them it was the day. Wow.
My feelings here are so conflicting. I want to be there with them. I don't want to waste a minute with them. But, it feels just so wrong to not have little bit here in the middle of all of us. Today would have been the ultimate excitement for her. We would have had her in the cutest of costumes, and she would have been so thrilled to knock on doors and get candy. Nothing excited her more in this world than chocolate. Last year she had a blast. This year would have been even better. I am that crazy person that started planning this Halloween last year, and her unexpected absence is just so profound and apparant.
This year, the Halloween-themed decorations are like knifes in my heart. I see tombstones and images of death taken lightly everywhere I turn. It has never bothered me before. It bothers me now.
My struggle is when to push myself and when to let the grief win. Tonight the grief is winning. I am sitting at home, missing watching my others have their night. Next year, maybe I will be stronger.