From Chaos Comes Happiness

Sometimes, it hits me like a brick. Like a fucking huge ass brick that is coming at me 100mph. My sister is dead. Shocking . . . to say it like that. So direct. So final. But it is the truth. And sometimes, it hits me just like that. I walked into my house yesterday to this . . . her wedding dress. In my living room. My brother-in-law wanted me to have it - in case my girls wanted it for either a part of their own dresses some day, or maybe their babies christening gowns. Or something. The thought was one of kindness and generosity. But still, it fucking hit me like a brick. Today? Why today? And why did my own husband just leave it there for me to see? And why is it such a big deal to me? Because . . . it hurts. It hurts every damn day. It has been 434 days since she passed. (No, I am not keeping a tally going . . . I promise. I just looked it up for this post.) But, it has been 434 days since she passed. And it has hurt for 434 days. And that, my frien...

I am sitting in my daughters room right now, it is 6AM . . . . and she is 13. She turned thirteen at the end of January, and last night she had some friends over for a small birthday gathering and sleep over. 13. My Ella. The kids are all sleeping in the family room, and I woke early, mildly suffering from the onset of a cold that is slowly starting to move down to the chest. I needed hot tea - pronto - so instead of making a ruckus in the kitchen, I grabbed my car keys and headed to Starbucks (their medicine ball tea really is the best). This also gave me the opportunity to be the greatest mom (a goal I recognize is unattainable and unrealistic), and picked up two dozen Dunkin Donuts - one dozen assorted and one dozen vanilla long johns (because those really are best). Returning home, I grabbed my tea, my iPad, a book, and a long john (hey, I am human), and took myself to Ella’s room - the only place where I would not disturb all the sleeping creatures in our house. I don...