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    Sunday, September 14, 2008

    Not As We

    Reborn and shivering
    Settled on new terrain
    Unsure, unkind, insane
    It's faint and shaken

    Day one, day one
    Start over again
    Step one, step one
    I'm barely making sense
    For now I'm faking it
    'Til I'm psuedo-making it
    From scratch, begin again
    But this time I as I
    And not as we

    Gun-shy and shivering
    Tear it without a hand
    Feign brave but still intent
    Little and hardly here

    Day one, day one
    Start over again
    Step one, step one
    I'm barely making sense
    For now I'm faking it
    'Til I'm psuedo-making it
    From scratch, begin again
    But this time I as I
    And not as we

    Eyes wet toward
    wide open fright,
    If God is taking bets,
    I pray he wants to lose,

    Day one, day one
    Start over again
    Step one, step one
    I'm barely making sense
    For now I'm faking it
    'Til I'm psuedo-making it
    From scratch, begin again
    But this time I as I
    And not as we

    ~Alanis Morrissette, Flavors of Entanglement

    Among other things, Aimee and I shared a love for Alanis, and this song has been screaming at me for days, and it speaks to how I'm feeling. It's truly like starting over. She was so much a part of my daily life for so many years that I am unable to truly put into words how it feels to face each day without the possibility of her being a part of it. There is the definite, nearly tangible loss of an important "we" in my life now that she's gone.

    Damn.

    She's gone.

    She died.

    I'll never forget those words as they were spoken to me the first time on September 2nd at 9:50 AM. "...Aimee died..." Nik choked over the phone at me, as I stared at myself into the mirror in disbelief and began screaming into the phone back at him. Couldn't believe it then, wouldn't believe it...

    And even now, it still stabs my heart to write that and know it's true. Things not done and left unsaid between us tug at that heart, and I am constantly missing all the things we'll never do. I will never hold her baby. She will never call and tell me it's time to go to the hospital. I will never see ultrasound pictures. She will never get the promotions within her coporation that surely would have come her way. She will not see my kids grow up. We will not grieve our dogs' deaths together, but I will have to trust she will pick them up at the RB when they get there. We will never sing on the phone together again. We will never have another "You move to Omaha...no you move to Waterloo....no you move to Omaha...no you move to Waterloo" argument again.

    I will never speak to her again in my life.

    She will never call and ask me what I'm doing, ever again. We will never enjoy another lunch, another smoke, or another laugh together. My grief at knowing and realizing the factual nature of all we've lost is almost more than I can bear.

    But our alternatives as humans are few: stop life, be overtaken and drown in grief forever, or get it contained enough to carry, and then carry it with us as we go on. And I am blessed with so many other beautiful, wonderful people in my life, many of whom Aimee loved as well, that I have no choice but the latter of the two.

    So I am not forgetting her. I am not over her death. I am not cheering up because I am all better, and life is not rosy once again. But because she would want me to, I am getting back to some things that matter to me, like blogging. As I said before, I have to believe she can still see this; and I believe that she knows my blogging past her death is not disrespectful to her, and getting back to the every day stuff we talk about here at FMFO is part of my healing process. A process I know she would want me to move through as quickly as possible. I will always look for her comments when I blog, always being disappointed when I never see them, and I will surely continue blogging about her as I go through the process of trying to heal this deepest of wounds.

    So, on we go, all of us. I love you Aimee, and that will never change. That goes for all of you who I love as well, whether here or there. Thanks for loving me. Stop back soon for happier blogs to come.

    2 comments:

    Deb said...

    You know how much I hate that Rainbow Bridge thing, and yet, you would be the only person in my life who could put it in such a way that it would have meaning for me. The very idea that I would be waiting for my dogs instead of the other way around absolutely stole my breath.

    She's not only reading, Cathy. She's helping you write. Everyone who lives in your heart and in your memories helps you write. Her comments are already in every word of your blog.

    Kae said...

    Well said Deb.

    So good to see you writing Cathy. Aimee would be proud!!