Sunshine and shiva

I woke up this morning, soaked in milk, to the sweet smile of Shea. It was so hard to get out of bed, knowing that on this beautiful sunshiney day, we would gather with our family and friends and colleagues to say goodbye to Harper bean. Fortunately, Shea was in a brilliantly happy mood and was content to climb into our bed and snuggle and sing and tell stories until I gathered the will to start the day.

In a perfect reflection of the internal emotional roller coaster I am riding, this morning I will attend a Mother's Day recital for one child and a memorial service for another. Happy and sad, sweet and bitter, smiles and tears.

I think the waterproof mascara was a wise investment.

As we ate dinner with family members last night, I began to appreciate the Jewish tradition of sitting shiva. During shiva, there's not supposed to be small talk, the mourners are not supposed to serve as "hosts" trying to make guests comfortable - you're just supposed to have space to mourn. I get that now. Chit chat becomes overwhelming so quickly, starts to feel like auditory sandpaper, and I just want to yell, "Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking!!" Discussion of future plans, plans we can only have because Harper is no longer here make me want to put my fingers in my ears and sing "La, la, la" like a child.

It's not that I don't want to talk. But I find myself desperate to talk about her, about Harper. I just want to hear her name over and over and over. Harper, Harper, Harper. I am so worried she will be forgotten too easily, that I will forget her.

I actually found myself straining, during the Nats game, to hear mentions of Bryce Harper, even though it wasn't my bean they were talking about, it was a comfort just to hear the name being spoken.

Love you, Harper bean - hope you know, somehow, what a beautiful day it is today. Your daddy and I will accept many hugs on your behalf.