I'm not Proud, But I am Human.

I survived.

April 1st came and went. I stayed so busy, I was almost able to forget my fears from the day.


Robert offered to let me sleep in. We usually take turns over the weekend and since Saturday was his, Sunday was mine. But when morning came and I thought of the busy week ahead, all I wanted to was spend a few hours with my little family. Don't get me wrong, I love me some sleep. I had a doctor once tell me that I needed 14 hours for my body to be able to function properly and manage with my pain. I can't imagine sleeping that long now, but one day a week I do sleep 10-12 hours. Sometimes I don't even sleep but rather just read or reflect. But as I said, this day was about family.

I cooked breakfast, a special family recipe (Sausage Pie: Cornbread, Ground Sauce and Apple Pie filling) that I reserve for occasions like Father's Day and Robert's birthday...sometimes Christmas. Then I started in on a batch of my famous spaghetti that his sister, Melanie, loves so much. I wanted to do something special for her arrival. Finally I started in on my mac and cheese for our Easter party (I was disappointed with it but it was still a hit). I felt happy and domestic.

Then Melanie called to say that she was stuck in Lake City because her bus was delayed. Robert went to get her as I finished my cooking. I put Meghan to bed and the silence just taunted me. Silence does that. Yells. Screams. Taunts. Silence is the worst noise in the world.

I got through the silence and onto our party two hours later. I was lucky to be surrounded by a few close friends and honestly without them being there I may not have been able to talk myself into it. Surround by supportive, caring friends I found that I didn't need to be drunk, I didn't want to cry and my smiles were genuine. Good friends make all the difference in the world.

Meghan had a blast playing, eating, gathering what seemed like ALL the eggs. Then this mom introduced herself to me. She was friendly and I liked her immediately. I point out Meghan on the trampoline and she pointed to a little boy with blonde hair about two next to Meghan. "That's my son, Max." I felt a friend standing next to me stiffen. My knees buckled and my heart dropped to my chest. She went on to point out her other two kids and her husband joined in talking to me. They were so.very.nice. And I wanted to hurt them. I wanted to just slap her for nothing more than existing. I cannot describe how badly I wanted to strangle her, to she her son act up or get hurt...something, anything. But instead...they were just nice. God I felt guilty. And I know I was a snotty bitch. Not because of something I did but just because after that I avoided them like they had some terrible disease. But every time I got near them I'd hear them, "Max, watch out for Meghan. Be careful Max. Are you ok Max? Let's eat Max. Look at the eggs Max." All I could think was "How DARE you name your son that. Don't you know? Stop calling him by MY son's name."

I don't know if it was the heat or my grief but I soon found myself in the bathroom vomiting up the little bit of food I had eaten. After that I made my way around saying goodbye to my friends, making plans because God I needed to plan forward to something beyond that moment of agony.

Later at home I felt the guilt creep back up. This girl really was nice. It wasn't her fault. I shouldn't have been so bitter and vile inside. It had been so long since I had that "I hate you all, I hope you die" hatred inside and here I was binging on the blackness.

From there we visited with Melanie at home, went to bed. Today was normal with the exception of having Melanie here. We went to lunch with their father, brother and step-sister. Melanie went home for the night with her father. Everything was fine.

Then tonight, Robert and I were sitting at the table playing a board game, Rummikub, while writing out our final list for Meghan's birthday party. It occurred to me that I had survived the previous day without any tears. Aside from a moment where she bolted towards a road at the party, nothing bad had happened. She didn't die 5 days before her birthday like her brother. And then it hit me.

Meghan is one day older than Max.

Meghan is a day older than her BIG brother.

Meghan has lived longer than Max ever got to.

I couldn't breathe. We put her to bed and I sang the ABC song, The Elmo Song and lastly Twinkle, Twinkle. Twinkle, twinkle always chokes me up because I sang it to Max want felt like 100 times the night before we lost him. I sang it until my voice gave out, until he finally fall asleep. I told Meghan goodnight. We walked out and I hugged Robert like I always do, but this time I started sobbing. I couldn't say the words out loud, but he knew.

And then I broke my golden rule. I came down stairs with the tears still wet on my face and I grabbed a Mike's Cranberry Lemonade from the fridge. I gulped it down and went back for the 2nd one. It's also the last one in the house. I'm not proud, but I am human. Dear God please forgive me for my evil, vile thoughts towards that woman and her precious family. Please forgive me for my bitterness. And oh Lord please grant me the strength to not drink when I'm upset. I'm not my father. I'm not my father. I'm not my father. Please God help me find my own way. Remind me that I don't need to drink or get high to get through my pain the way he did. Show me the way to cope without harming my body.

I'm not proud, but I am human.