Guilt

I do still have a bit of survivor’s guilt.

I know how lucky/blessed I am to still be here, loving my family, mothering my children, wifing my husband.

I wonder why I got to stay, why I got to live and Amy didn’t.

Okay, so yes, her kids were ‘grown’ when she died. But…they aren’t that old. Her son was 22 and her daughter was 18 when she died. Her daughter had just gotten married. Amy’s first grandchild was born nine and a half months after Amy died.

Amy loved babies. She LOVED babies. She would have adored that little girl so, so much.

I know she’s still loving her from heaven. I know this. And yet…it’s so unfair that she isn’t here, living on this earth, holding that baby, kissing her, hugging her. Helping H as she figures out motherhood.

I know she wouldn’t want me to feel this way.

When we were kids, Amy was the caregiver of all us who were younger than she was. Chet and I were only thirteen months younger than Amy and yet she was always trying to mother us.

She’d want me to embrace my life, to love my babies and celebrate every single day I’m here. She’d want me to run through sprinklers, to drink that strawberry lemonade, eat another piece of cake and laugh long and loud with my daughters.

I cried for her. I cried hard. I still have moments of grief. But I know she loved hard in her 48 years on this earth and she’s still loving hard from afar (or may not so far away, who really knows?)

When I dream of Amy, she’s always so happy. She’s healthy and beautiful and young and she’s smiling. She’s full of life and love and I know…I know she’d want me to be that way in the here and now.

So I’m going to try. I’m going to try and let go of the guilt. I’m going to try and live this one life I have to the fullest, loving as much as Amy did, laughing as much as she did, holding babies every chance I get and hugging my girls for as long as they’ll let me.

Instead of feeling guilty that I’m still here and she’s not, I’m going to try and live the way she would be living if she were here, unapologetically, unfiltered, unfettered by guilt.

Older

A reminder popped up on my email calendar on the morning of Tuesday, February 26. It said, “You are older than Amy ever got to be.”

I put that in a few months ago.

I wanted to remind myself to be grateful for every single day.

I woke up this morning determined to be kind to myself. I want to stop hating my body. It’s been through a lot and it’s still kicking. That’s got to count for something.

Every single breath I take from this day forward is a one more breath than Amy got to take.

Her death has hit me hard.

Maybe because she’s a peer. We grew up together. Maybe we weren’t best friends beyond 8 and 9 years old but we were close enough that when we did see each other, it was as if we were children again.

We loved each other like sisters; sometimes long-lost sisters, but sisters none the less.

I see her son at the grocery store every few weeks. He’s a checker and he’s just the sweetest guy. He was very shy as a child and very withdrawn as a teen but he’s grown up to be so gentle.

He went out to see his sister and niece, Amy’s first grandchild, a few weeks ago. I’m so glad her kids got to be together near the anniversary of her death.

I owe it to myself to live better, to try harder to be kinder to myself. I would say I owe it to Amy but you know what? She doesn’t want to live better for her, she wants me to live better for me. She loved all of us (her entire family and friends) enough to want us to live and love and be happy for the sake of happiness.

I am going to try to silence the voice in my head that tells me I’m not good enough, that I’m not smart enough, not thin enough, not pretty enough to deserve the love I have in my life. My family loves me so much and I owe it to them to love myself just as much.

I don’t mean that I’m going to skip through life announcing to the world how amazing I am. But I am going to try and stop telling the world how awful I am.

Because I’m not awful. I’m strong and kind and loving. I’m smart and funny. I, like my body, have been through so much and I deserve all the love that is given to me.

I truly believe that. The voice that tries to tell me I’m wrong will be ignored until it shuts up.