It does not seem fair that you were taken right after so many life changes- we hadn't had a chance to have fun together in a long time...
2008- Audrey was born after 26 hours of labor. I had to be admitted to the ER for seven hours the day I was leaving the hospital because of shortness of breath. Even though they couldn't find anything, I had to see a cardiologist that week- we took Audrey with us in a cab at only nine days old- and he prescribed something to slow down my heart rate.
A couple of days later, we discovered our entire Brooklyn apartment building was infested with bed bugs. That first night we stayed up all night watching Audrey to protect her. Then we moved to the hallway and tried to sleep on the floor there with Audrey in her car seat. After that night, we moved in with my parents temporarily while they exterminated, but after three unsuccessful attempts, we decided to get out of our apartment for good and left behind everything we owned- all of our furniture, etc. We went back two weekends with a van we rented and did laundry- the only way to kill them- and packed albums and personal things in giant ziploc bags to place in storage until eighteen months had passed (bed bugs can live up to eighteen months without food). It was a nightmare and the hardest time of our entire life. We basically moved in to my parents' tiny house with a few clothes and that's it. Audrey slept in a borrowed pack and play. We left behind the new crib and organic mattress I'd prepared for her along with everything else. We ended up living there for five months.
Finally, we found a one bedroom apartment and tried to start over. A few months later, you got the opportunity to tour and thus began your year- the last year of your life- of travels around the world.
Audrey was still just about nine months when you left, so I was busy being a new mom- still up at night a lot, and still trying to figure out all that stuff.
We just didn't get much time to be together the last couple of years. And now this: it doesn't seem fair.
Was also tortured again today about the cemetery I chose for you- having so many regrets and it's just agony because nothing can be done now. I try to tell myself that you were so easy-going- you'd tell me not to worry.
I know I dream about you every night- I have those vague recollections when I wake up, but no specifics. I just know the dreams are not pleasant.
I hate how you are starting to feel separate from me...not one. You feel far away. Further away.
I feel like I've been blindfolded and then dropped off in some strange part of the world. I can't find my way back home no matter how hard I try. Was thinking today how I don't know where to go from here. I'm kind of stuck in this one bedroom apartment. We were looking to buy a home, but that certainly doesn't make sense now. The only reason I'm in this particular town is because they had large enough commuter buses for you to carry your cello on- that is why I live here. But now you're gone, and all the sucky parts about it- the parts that I'd complain about and you'd say, "Don't worry- we're moving in a few months," are still here. There is still the super loud town siren for fires/emergencies that sounds like an air raid is happening in the building; there is still the cigar smoke that seeps through our vent from the upstairs neighbor nightly, and there is still the fact that Audrey doesn't have her own room but a "nook" in the living area which leaves me trapped in my bedroom whenever she's sleeping.
So, I don't get it now. Where am I supposed to live? Before the next logical step was buy a home- have another baby. I guess I just have to reason some kind of logical step here.
Every moment, every hour, every day- takes me further from holding your hand, looking into your eyes...and more and more into unchartered, foreign territory. There are no directions, no compass, and nothing looks familiar.