Letters to Eva

Dear Eva,

It’s funny how one minute I can be feeling totally fine, enjoying the sunshine with my guard completely down and the next minute I’m dropping a plate on the floor, watching it smash into a million pieces and crying about it. One minute I’m driving home from work, listening to music and the next I’m sitting in the driveway watching Oliver and Scott play in the front yard and I’m bawling. Grief is so unpredictable that way, it comes out of no where and completely consumes me. I’ve been such a roller coaster of emotions again lately. Remember when I said I don’t cry everyday anymore? I guess this week I do. Just when I feel like I’m okay, suddenly I’m not again. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – this is hard. All of this is so hard. So freaking hard.

I had a dream about you last night. It was so nice to see that beautiful smile. You were just standing there smiling, just out of my reach. I was so frustrated that I couldn’t get to you. I was actually mad when I woke up. I just wanted so bad to hold you. Touch you. Feel your hair between my fingers. I was so mad. It just furthers the point that I can’t have you, that I won’t see your face again on this earth. That you aren’t coming home. I can’t talk to you anymore. I’m so mad. You are supposed to be here with me and daddy. Two year old’s are not supposed to die. Parents aren’t supposed to out live their children. Never, ever, yet here we are. Here we are, doing the unimaginable, the virtually impossible. I HATE IT. I don’t know how I’m going to live another 30+ years without you. It’s cruel and unfair. Today I read a news story in which a parent said time moving forward is cruel. No, time moving forward with healthy children growing and giving you grandchildren isn’t cruel, it’s life. Time moving forward without your children here to do it with you is what is really cruel. Please, soon to be dad, please cherish every moment with your children and never ever complain about them growing up because trust me, it’s WAY better than the alternative. Don’t get me wrong, I did it too, but if I ever get the chance to do it again, I’ll try my best to think twice.

“You are the strongest person I know”, “You are braver than me”, “If I was in your shoes I wouldn’t be standing”. Just a few of the things I get told constantly lately. I know full well these words are spoke with the best intentions and are meant to be compliments and to make me feel better. I am grateful that it looks that way to others. I’m happy that they see strength, but all I see is pure pain and survival. I have no choice but to “be brave” and “stand tall”. I can promise you, that if you were in my shoes, you too would survive. You too would hear all the same sentiments I am. You know why? There is no other option, that’s why. The only other option is to end my own life. Eva, my girl, you made mama stronger than that. People don’t see that before I go out for drinks with friends I most likely spent the morning crying or flopping around in bed because I just had NO energy to get up. They don’t see that some days I avoid going into the house because it just suffocates me. People don’t see the pain that cooking supper brings some days. They don’t see the grief that attacks me in the shower in the morning. They just see the girl that puts on her game face and stuffs everything down for a few hours. Grieving is hard work. It’s seriously a full time job. That doesn’t mean I’m going to just give up, I need to live my life in memory and for my baby girl who doesn’t get to have hers anymore. I need to do it for you, Eva. I promise I will do it for you.

I miss you every single second of every single day. I need you to know I love you. I will never ever stop loving and missing you. You will always be my best friend. Damn it I wish you were here. What I wouldn’t do to turn back the time. Five more seconds would be plenty. Just to tell you I love you, again and again and again. I LOVE YOU. I MISS YOU.

Love and Kisses,

Your Mama.