Updated: Aug 26
It’s hard to believe that today is the last day of my grief diaries. While some of the prompts have challeneged me or made me write about things outside of my comfort zone – I have really gotten a lot of out of this last month. But – just like tonight’s sunset – there also was a lot of dark and cloudy times. This month has been really hard. With Rosie being gone settling in as a reality, the coronavirus shutting down the world around us and keeping us homebound without any of our prior support systems, and with trying to prepare for baby #2 in less than 2 weeks from now – there’s been lots of tears, lots of anxiety, lots of loneliness, and lots of clouds. So tonight’s sunset is pretty resembling of my journey through these 31 days.
What I have learned is that it has brought me peace and even some joy to make time to journal and be with my Rosie every day. I looked forward to spending time with my thoughts and with my memories and have found some healing in trying to make sense of my emotions.
I’m beyond grateful for Rosie – for her life, but also for her continued love and presence in my life now and the everlasting impact she has made on me. I know that there will be dark days and moments where I can’t see or feel the sun. But just like I have gotten through this last month (or better yet the last 3 months since Rosie’s passing) – I have proven to myself how strong I am and how I will get through this. Yes, I will ALWAYS miss Rosie and be pained by her absence – but, I also will continue to put one foot in front of the other, I will continue to memorialize my daughter, I will continue to be grateful for all of the love and support I am surrounded by, and I will continue to chase the sunsets – searching always for more glimmers of light and hope.
I refuse to let Rosie’s passing stifle her spirit and her legacy. I will make something special and impactful on this world out of this tragedy – just as Rosie would be making an impact on the world if she were still here. I will talk about Rose and continue to make her a central part of my family and of my life. I will not let her be forgotten. I may not be able to control the fact that she isn’t here with us or that her precious life was cut far too short – but I can control how I respond to this and how I find ways to live with Rosie in a new way.
I’m living for Rosie and for that moment when my life is over and she comes running into my arms and tells me how proud she is of me. There has got to be more to life than all of this – a bigger meaning to it all. I live for that and I pray that my Rosie helps lead me there every day for the rest of my life.