Wednesday, January 18, 2017


I am struggling. Every. Single. Day. Struggling to fight back the tears. Struggling to remember to breathe when an expected reminder of Paige knocks the wind out of me. Sometimes I can simply catch my breath and carry on about my day. Other times I feel overtaken by a tsunami of grief, and I just lose it. It's been almost three months since our sweet girl left us, and it seems the further out we get, the harder all of this is.

I am trying.  Every. Single. Day. Trying to hang on to some semblance of 'normalcy'--whatever that is these days. Trying to wrap my head around the fact that Paige is no longer here. Trying to make sense of something that makes no sense to me at all.

No matter how hard I try, I know it's not mine to understand. I know Paige is in a place so much more amazing than this broken world. She is healed, and she is happy. My head knows this. My heart knows this. Yet it doesn't keep me from missing my girl.  It doesn't protect me from this intense, heart-wrenching ache that feels like it will never go away.

Grief does some crazy things. It can make time fly. It can make it drag on and on. It can make you numb to your surroundings. It can heighten every sense you have. Let me tell you, every one of my senses misses that girl of mine. Every. Single. One.

Seeing her beautiful smile. Those light freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. The way she rolled her eyes at her brother--or her dad--or me. Her excitement about her car--or the latest Captain America or Thor movies. Seeing her here with me.

Hearing her voice. Singing at the top of her lungs to her 'jams.' Yelling at (or not-so-gently redirecting) Jeremy for a whole host of reasons. Laughing at her brother's silliness or her dad's jokes--never mine. Saying, "I love you." Hearing her here, talking with me.

Touching those curly ringlets on her head. Locking her fingers with mine. Feeling her head on my shoulder. Having her here and hugging her so tightly I'd never want to let go.

Smelling her favorite shampoo.  The scented stuffed animals in her room that gave off the slightest hint of vanilla.

Tasting foods we enjoyed together. Bread pudding from her favorite place ever. The chocolate chocolate chip pancakes she ate almost every day for four weeks--with whipped cream, of course.

I am struggling, but I am doing my best to press on through this unbelievable, almost unbearable season. My heart is broken, but I am determined to find the joy in each day. Paige was great about that--finding a reason to smile no matter the circumstance. I need to take a cue from my girl. I may not be able to reach out and hug her anymore, but she's here with me--and always will be.

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.   Psalm 147:3

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