I heard Katherine today. She cried out. I lifted my head out of a stooper and was about to jump up and run to the living room to help her. And than I realized it was only my imagination. She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone.
I want to hug her. I want to squeeze her little weak fragile shoulders, and kiss her soft lips and forehead. I want to rip her out of that funeral home and off of that cold metal table, out of that cold refrigerator, and home to my arms.
That’s my child in there. That’s my baby with the pink wedding shoes she wanted to wear to Harold and Jens wedding, the rainbow socks from Patti which are pulled all the way up past her knees, the pretty pink princess dress with pearls from Samantha, the pretty pearl necklace from Aunty Paula and Grandma Millie, the pretty pearl bracelets from Julie’s wedding that Papa brought her, the fresh purple Hawaiian lei from Tina, the princess crown from Aunty Cindy, and her favorite Cinderella blanket. That’s my baby. She is mine. She belongs here. Bring her home to me. It’s so lonely here.
I don’t know how much longer I can be in this house. I’m losing my mind. I went for an appetizer today with David, just to get out. It was no better. Away, here, in another damn state, doesn’t matter. I hope this gets easier. I can’t imagine an existence such as this any longer. It’s the most excruciating pain I’ve ever felt. Everything hurts. Everything. I sob until I’m heaving. My empty stomach has nothing to give.
I’m so sorry Katie. I love you sweetheart. You were my precious brave baby. You were so brave. You made fighting cancer look easy. And even though I told you that, I wish you would have believed me and not feared it so much. You were so brave and amazing. I miss you. My sweet baby.
Loves and kisses. I’ll be seeing you soon mongrel. I’m so, so very sorry.