Today I shopped for Halloween costumes for the kids. I was doing something normal, something I've done for the last 10 Halloweens. Nothing unusual. Except. Except. I should have been buying a tiny little baby costume. Something disgustingly cute, like a hotdog, or a bumblebee. I can't buy a costume for a dead baby. Or I could, but you know, that's the kind of crazy I'm really trying to avoid here.
Last night I cleaned my room. Normal right? See the normal girl, doing the normal everyday things? I got all done, and made my bed. I put Leta's blanket on it, the one that Jim had embroidered with Leta's name the day before her funeral. I just threw it on the bed, but her name was face up. I felt like I'd been sucker punched in the heart, seeing her name and birth date. That's such an apt description too. Sucker punched in the heart. I had to stop and catch my breath. It's those sneaky little reminders that are going to do me in.
I don't mean I want to erase, or forget about her. No way. I just mean, when I least expect it, I'm going to be mauled by such pain that I cannot fully take a breath. That's my new normal. That's my new life.