"Change, when it comes, cracks everything open."
Dorothy Allen

Wednesday, April 13, 2011


So, today was one of the hardest days of my life. 

Not THE hardest, that was another day.  But definitely top 3...probably top 2.  And it wasn't just today, it was the last 2 and a half weeks.  Or 18 days.

18 days to change a life.  Lots of lives.  No one will be the same again.

We said goodbye to Kit today.  Today was his funeral.  It was lovely.  Holly wrote a beautiful eulogy, from all the ramblings and bits and pieces that everyone threw at her.  She wrote about everything that I would want to hear about.  How she did it- I don't know.  But she was honest and eloquent, and I am so very, very proud of her.

Paul read it.  I don't know how.  He broke down, which made everything so very real and heart wrenching.  It was a beautiful thing, to watch him power through, because he believed that what he was saying NEEDED to be said.  Even if it was just us, in the front row, that needed to hear it.

Kathy was amazing.  So together and wonderful.  She has been a solid as a rock through all of this.  She has cracks in her armour, that's for sure.  But those cracks are what allow her to release the pressure, and continue to function.  Each time I see her, I gain more respect and love for her than I thought possible.  I am in awe of her.

Dawn and Holly did so well.  Dawn and I shared some laughs- it wouldn't be the right and normal without laughing in church.  Holly made it all happen.  I don't know how she did it, but I have a total new found respect for her job and how fucking good at it she is. 

Geoff was solid too, but we cried together as Paul spoke.  I couldn't hold back, as Paul got to the parts about me and my babies.  My friend Bill said he kept it together, until he heard me cry. 

Sawyer slept on my lap, she was uncertain and nervous, and wanted the reassurance of a bottle and Mommy's lap.  She was such an angel, and I wiped my cheeks on her hair throughout the service.  Bastian stayed with my mom and dad and brother.  He copes by shutting down.  Everything gets to be too much, and he drifts off to sleep.  He did it yesterday at the visitation and today, he slept through the funeral.  My poor boy.  I like to think that Grandpa is talking to him now, in his dreams, in a way that they couldn't before. 

I am so exhausted, I feel like I haven't slept in days.  But I have. 

I can't look at my own parents, without welling up.  All of this makes me appreciate them more.  It makes me sad for every time I have been a bad daughter.  It makes me want to hug them every time I see them.  I think I just might.

I am going back to work tomorrow.  I hate the thought.  I think about Kit, and life and death, and my stupid, ridiculous job loses all meaning.  What good do I do?  How do I help others, or make the world a better place?  What does the job offer me, other than a paycheque?  The answer is complicated. 

I keep thinking and thinking...there has to be more than this.  I feel something coming..something just over the horizon.  I can feel it building in my soul.  I hope I recognize it when I see it.  I hope I have the balls to help make it happen.  I hope I can do well.

Losing Kit has taught me alot.  I have learned that I miss family.  Yes, they drive you crazy, but you need them.  I have fallen away from alot of mine.  I want them back.  I miss them.  I see the Rousseau's and I want what they have.  They include me, and I love that.  But....but...but but but...

I have learned that I need to be happy, in as many aspects of my life as possible.  I need to make experiences for my kids and keep them close.  I need to be affectionate and loving and dramatic and myself. 

I want someone to stand up for me...at my end....and say the things that we have been able to say about Kit.  It was a tribute to be proud of and want for your own.  And I do.

I am rambling, I am tired.  I will end here.

Kit, I miss you, I love you.  You would be so proud of your family, they did so well.  And they are going to be ok.  Come and visit us, when you can.  We will be watching and waiting for you. 

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "never forget."

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