The last couple of weeks have been hard for me.
They’ve been, “Why Rory” weeks.
Why didn’t Rory have temperature?
Why was she walking around, doing okay-ish until it was too late?
Why did we only get 36 hour from the time any symptoms hit?
Why didn’t we get inspired to do more?
Why were other family members throwing up with her?
Why wasn’t she buckled over in pain?
Why weren’t her symptoms more severe to alert us?
Why is my daughter gone?
I allow myself time to be sad and angry. I allow myself to cry in bed. I allow myself to hit pillows. To scream and shake my fists. Those feelings are real and have to be felt. To do otherwise is just pushing down emotions and that’s not effective for me.
But I don’t allow myself to live in that head space.
It doesn’t bring her back.
It doesn’t change the past.
It doesn’t help me be a better person.
It doesn’t make me a better support for my husband and sons.
In fact, it does the very opposite for the last two. I think if you were to ask Lance, he’d say I’ve been rather irritable the last couple of weeks.
I’ve had trouble fighting my way out of the depths I was in.
But I feel like I’m starting to see lights above the water.
Lots of lights.
Beautiful purple lights.