Broken hearts

Oh Carolyn. We miss you.

It hurts to watch these little hearts around me as they experience death, growing older and sober in that knowledge; that sometimes things aren't going to be okay. I don't want them to know this. I don't want to know this. I want them to stay tender, and hopeful, and trusting that the adults they love have infinite superpowers and invulnerability. We can't explain away that you can lose someone you love so much, that there is no constant you can depend on. The world seems scarier, even to me.

It's hit me like a brick lately, this fear that no one's exempt. Not even me, or my beautiful babies. I just want to sit and hold them, just in case.

I find myself rating every moment's worthfulness, or lack of. Getting incredibly frustrated if it's not something worthy of my time that now seems so incredibly precious.

I feel like I need more time, more than ever. I feel like I'm wasting it.

I miss talking to her. Her non-judgemental, forever positive words. I still take mental note of the cute things the kids say to relay to her, think automatically, "Oh, Carolyn will like that one" when I get a cute picture of them. It takes me a minute to think of someone else to call when I'm washing dishes or folding laundry in a quiet moment. Especially when I need a pep talk, the 'you're doing okay mama'. She was good at that.

We still need her, and Carolyn deserves to be here. I'm still mad and stuck on it not being fair. She was too young, too positive, too much of a light in our lives to be gone. She had just raised her kids, just finished the hard part, this was supposed to be her sit back and enjoy time. She deserves that part. So does Troy's Dad. They were supposed to have that together.

I just want to fix it, and there's nothing I can do. I can't make the hurt go away for any of us. I can't protect the kids, or Troy, or his family from going through this, I can't even protect myself from this. I can't keep their little hearts whole and protected. I would like to take my own off my sleeve and box it up for a while.

It hurts.

Troy's away this week and I miss him. He's my person. I need him. What if I ever lost him? He's on a trip with his Dad that seems to have really brought all of this up again fresh.

Our cat got hit by a car this week, although we think now she may make it. I found her waiting for me on our porch when I got home from work Thursday evening. I keep wondering how she got back, picturing her struggling to get home, trusting that we would help her. Her little broken self is at the vet for the weekend, they're worried she might not eat. She has five broken ribs, two of those in two places, a broken leg bone, and a collapsed lung lobe? She's a little eight pound bundle. Apparently this stuff can fix itself, as long as she eats. Regardless, I can't handle any more death. I can't handle any more death dealt to my kids. She has to be okay.

Why can't we just will it so?