Incoherently Yours

Just to show you how bipolar I can be, here is another post! Because I’m actually not depressed today, I just needed to get the previous post written down and out of my system. Fall is here! And today! Today I am going to roast beets. And attempt to eat beet greens. Weird. I’ve only ever had them pickled. I love pickled beets. So we shall see. I organized my cold room last night. There is something immensely satisfying about having shelves full of pickles, peaches, beets, raspberry cordial, apple juice, apple sauce, apple butter, and apple syrup. I just have this year’s crop of beets to pickle, and I may attempt to make apple jelly again, since my apple syrup was not intentional. And then begins the tomato creations. I enjoyed my garden this year. The last two years I have been pregnant and not allowed to move/in the hospital/wishing I was dead, when garden harvest time came around. Now I have ten foot sunflowers, eight foot corn, hills and hills of potato

September 12 th was a terrible day. Actually, the eighteen days of August 26 th – September 12 th were rather awful. I’m beginning to understand that it never really gets easier… you just get farther away from the pain. Time, heartless, cold time takes you away from the moment of despair. Babies are born, things change, life gets busy again. You don’t spend your days under the covers weeping. In the midst of life, there are triggers and you feel the wave of sorrow about to bowl you over and you make a quick detour to avert is because you just can’t right now. Because Kadon needs his bum changed, he needs kisses and hugs, he needs attention… he needs me. But there are times, times when he doesn’t need me at the moment. And the last two years are swept away as if they never happened and I find myself exactly where I was the day she died. I remember holding her, skin-to-skin, against my heart. I remember them taking the tube out of her mouth. I remember the way it felt to have m

I haven’t been writing much. August went by in a blur. Kadon’s birthday, my sister’s visit, Rory’s birthday – August was an emotional month. And it has continued into September. I felt obligated to write a birthday post for Kadon. I felt obligated to write a birthday post for Rory. But I didn’t. Because I didn’t know how. I felt conflicted; like I didn’t know which set of emotions to pick and run with. Kadon’s post should be all happy, right? Rory’s post should be wistful and sad, right? But those emotions aren’t mutually exclusive. This year, their birthdays felt intertwined.                 My darling boy, the light of my life, turned one. We celebrated. We sang Happy Birthday. We threw a party. We laughed. We ate cake. We opened presents. We took pictures. … We cried. Because she wasn’t there. Rory wasn’t there to try to blow out his candles, to try to steal his limelight and his presents. She wasn’t there, tottering around, beguiling people with her charm, and making various