Empty House

I am laying in bed.

She is "trying" to nap in her crib but so far she's had a parade with all of her "amamals" jumping around in there, and looked through a book of snowflake photographs I left in there pointing at each one saying, "Do you wannn dat one?  Orrrr dat one!"

I am drinking Korean honey/citron tea- your favorite.  I'm still not feeling well at all, but probably better since I had the urge to start deep cleaning our kitchen this morning.  I remember being sick a few months ago and a Korean friend offering me this tea- I couldn't imagine drinking it because it made me too sad...but the last time I was at the Korean grocery store, I bought a large jar after a short debate in my mind.  Today it brought me comfort to drink this.  The grief is evolving.  I am aware of this.

Now she is looking at the family photo from her first birthday that her Hello Kitty doll holds- where you and I are kissing her on either cheek..."There's maaaaaama, and theeeere's aaapa, and there's Auuudreeeey!"

I cry.

I can't stand how incomplete and truncated our family feels.  Of course, her and I are still a family, but we are so, painfully incomplete without you.   Yesterday, I went to pick her up at a neighbor's who had kindly volunteered to watch her so I could rest for a bit.  As I went down the hall I could hear the sounds of Audrey playing with the two little boys and tears started to stream down my face.  I wanted for her to have a home with a complete family- father and mother- and siblings too.  I am sorry for her that she has to come back with me to our house.

A house where someone is always missing...and where it always feels so empty when I turn the key in the door and go in.  Every time.