Time is weird.
I remember thinking in hours. Then days. Now months.
Eight of them.
Rory has been gone eight months today.
There are times I still count her to get tickets.
There are times I actually think she’s going to come around a corner.
Then there are times that being with her was a different life entirely.
Man, eight months.
I miss her.
Every minute.
Every hour.
Every day.
Every month.
I told Lance on July 3rd, “If I ever say that we should get a new van, we need to go get it.” Because one minute I’ll be ready for a new van. The next I’m hyperventilating.
So on the morning of July 4th, we were out getting sodas and I said, “Let’s get a new van.”
Lance practically drove straight there. We’ve been talking for a couple of years about what our next van would be so while it was kind of an impulse buy. It totally wasn’t.
So here’s our new Chrysler Pacifica Hybrid. It’s a pretty blue and way fancy.
We couldn’t quite get rid of our old van though. She’s part of the family. The twins will learn to drive with her in a year.
Side note story:
When we were in the Chrysler dealership there was this beautiful purple Jeep. Rory’s dream car! Sitting right show room!
I think it’s easy to see signs in things when you’re hoping for them. Other times it just seems too coincidental. What are the chances there would be a purple Jeep in the showroom?!?
I’ve stated a few times that I’ve had experiences that tell me Rory still exists and that she’s still around.
I haven’t specifically shared them because they’re personal and some are sacred to me.
But I want to share the one I had today.
I’ve had something weighty hanging over my head the last few days. I keep thinking, where does this leave me and what am I going to do next?
That’s what I was doing at church today. I had my eyes closed and I was partially praying, partially thinking those questions. What am I going to do?
Then out of no where.
She was there.
In my mind.
Sitting in the pew in front of me, turning around smiling at me. Her beautiful red hair framing her face. Fingers gripping the back of the pew.
I opened my eyes.
I couldn’t see her.
But for a moment she let me know that she’s still here.
She loves me.
I went to Target today and it reminded me of something.
There were a few of Rory’s characteristics that I think were influenced by her brothers.
She rolled with punches. There were very few things she’d hang onto.
She was tough.
She loved to be outside playing in the dirt with our animals.
And her taste in toys.
I took this picture in a Target aisle a few years ago. It was just the two of us shopping while her brothers were at school.
My girl.
I was asked a few times, “So what do you guys do for the 4th?”
Any kind of question like that right now is just impossible.
I don’t know.
I don’t want to do traditions any longer. There’s a key player that’s missing right now. How can we be happy doing the same thing we usually do?
But how do I also keep some normalcy for the boys?
That’s my tightrope walk.
Yesterday we grilled.
We hung out with my parents and new friends.
Set off small fireworks.
And we bought a new van. (Pictures coming soon!)
New traditions.
Mixed with old traditions.
And I had no full blown panic attack yesterday.
I consider that a success.
Rory Ann Moore Foundation 