May Day

I have survived what at the time didn't seem survivable. My heart has been broken and battered, but now I see beauty and kindness. Today is a strange day, there is so much overlap between past and present. Six years ago, the present was a moment of horror that stretched forward through time, while the past seemed golden. Now the present is tough, but still beautiful. On this day, when I think of the past, I think of those horrible breaking moments of her death, the sight of the top of her head through a window, her body cold in my hands at home. It's a long reach to find her still alive in my mind, all of us together, the way things were. I don't like that, I hate it, but it's such a relief to not have intrusive memories of her death present in every moment. I want the liveliness of her here, not the presence of her death. But my suffering has abated, the grief has been worked, and for that I give thanks. It's not over, but it's bearable. In the beginning my chest ached painfully and there was screaming in my head. Now there is a lot more peace in my life. The color has returned brilliantly, and so has the love. Not the love of people that come and go, walking away after they've had their fill of the spectacle of our grief, but real love that lasts and is kind. I choose to think of that love today, and how Katie loved us, and we loved her.