Somedays I cry in the shower– like a silent scream. Then it quickly subsides, and I go on. Somedays, I let my mind wander to what could’ve been, then I stop myself. Somedays, I wish that I could stay in bed, but I get up anyway. Somedays I look at my girls and miss her more than I ever thought I could, but then they hug me.
Today, I helped some children. A couple of them had been injured. It hurts to see an injured child, especially one where the injuries are inflicted by an adult. I wish I could do something about it. I wish I could make the pain stop. Poor babies.
I love children. I love mamas and daddies. I love happy families, and I will never understand why the cruelty of this world in which we lives threatens that happiness. I wish we could all live forever in safety and love.
I guess that’s just a dream for now. I know there is no way to stay safe and secure at all times. Our kids grow up, we have experiences that stick with us– changing us forever, melting our innocence before our eyes. There is only one place where we are held in the truly safe and loving arms of our creator. That is the prize for surviving this life, no matter what it throws our way. We must build on our character, and find a way to prosper and give back despite the pain.
And you know, there are days when I don’t cry. I don’t hurt and I don’t mind jumping out of bed. There are times when I look at my girls and I just smile– no strings attached. There are bad days, there are so-so days, and there are good days. Wow, who know a bereaved mom could say that and be okay with it. I may actually have stopped punishing myself just a little. Baby steps…

Today I took Kennedy for a bike ride.  It was the first time she really rode without training wheels.  I have been a little embarrassed that my 7 1/2 year old can’t ride a bike.  But, truthfully, I am just happy she can cross the street.  When we first moved here, she was scared to ride the barbie car in our cul-de-sac.  She and I both had this fear of streets, of cars coming around the corner, of the worst happening.  It has been such an adjustment for both of us to realize that the car might stop.  Whenever any of them get near the street, my heart just stops.  It’s like, they step in the street and its all over.  But usually the car stops.  Usually the driver is paying attention, aware of his surroundings.  Nobody wants to run over a child in the street.  So more than likely, we will be okay. 

So I praised my daughter today for riding that bike on the sidewalk.  And then we went for a walk around the block.  And she let go of my hand, and looked both ways, and crossed the street.  And she made it across.  I know one day I will have to let go, and let my kids grow up.  They will go places without me, and I may not always know exactly where they are.  And, more than likely, they will be okay.

And that’s just some of the simple things we do to keep moving forward.  It isn’t easy, but we are all surviving.  We can’t changed what happened to Cameron, and we know its not our fault.  But we will not let it paralyze us.  We are brave enough to look both ways, then cross the street.