I've been wanting to write on here. I've been needing to write on here. Whenever I find myself in a funk or off-kilter Ryann-wise, I always find it rights me quickest to just blargh it all out here and get it out. So bear with me, please.
A few days ago, I had one of those moments that comes every so often and almost always unexpectedly. It's usually when I'm in the middle of something completely mundane and normal. Washing the dishes, walking to work, folding clothes. Out of nowhere the reality of Ryann's death hit sme so palpably that I literally gasp for breath and stumble. My stomach drops to my feet and I go queasy.
My brilliant, hilarious, daredevil daughter is dead.
This isn't supposed to happen in real life. It's not supposed to happen to people I know. It's definitely not supposed to happen me. No matter how well I try to describe the horror that slaps me across the face, I don't think that I will ever be able to actually relay it. Whenever these moments hit all I want to do is swaddle myself in a blanket with my computer full of photos and videos and let my mascara make a mess of my face.
Actually, that's a lie. What I really want to do is run to the park and push Ryann on a swing. I want to watch her laugh at Clif's awkward rollovers and send her in search of his ever elusive pacifiers. I want to walk her to her first day of school. I want to suffer through her learning her first instrument. I want to see her turn sixteen. I want to feel the ache of dropping her off at college. I want to hear about the boy and see her in white and watch her face change as they place that baby on her chest. My blanket and computer are pathetic.
I mourn for the people who will never meet her and so do not know to mourn. The friends who will never play with her, the teachers who will never mentor her, the husband who will never love her, the children who will never be born to her.
I hate these moments where I feel all the pain of that night in the hospital, the agonizing year and a half since, and the countless years to come, all in one blinding flash. But I never want them to go away. It's in these moments that Ryann is the most real. Where she's no longer dream-like. Where I miss and feel and remember everything.
I love you, baby girl.
|Mid-air slide dismount. Arms and hair flying.|
Typical Ryann gusto.