Friday, September 19, 2008

Piece of My Heart

It still hurts.

The longing to talk about Maeve is still on the tip of my tongue, and yet I am relegated to talk about the past and never the future.

We dream about what might be in the Heavens above - whether Maeve is now a big girl, or still a tiny baby trooping around the skies with her Reed and Barton silver cup. We'll only know the truth once we make it there ourselves.

I am still hurting.

I am reminded by songs and pretty clouds and pictures and crying babies.

Maeve's face is starting to look a bit blurry in my memory - I instantly remember her cherubic smile and chubby tummy, but I have a hard time remembering on my own how all her features went together. It comes back to my synapses instantly when I look at one of the many pictures I have in my office or at home.

Even as an aunt, I sometimes struggle with the most wicked depression - the kind that I sometimes think would be helped by a visit to a doctor and a little pill - but I don't want the emotion to go away. I still want to feel the raw heartache left behind by that precious, little girl.
I am far more reclusive.

I've built a comfortable, little circle of friends with whom I feel comfortable enough to let myself go and be happy or complacent or wistful.

Otherwise, I don't step out the circle much.

Otherwise, I don't call too many other people.

Depression can be rough, and it's hard to play Let's Pretend and make-believe and all the other junk that goes with keeping up appearances.

Some friends think I should be "all better" by now and are slow to offer a shoulder to cry on. Unfortunately the loss of a child doesn't heal as quickly as a skinned knee.

Other friends have been great ~ they've called me and checked up on me and invited me out for breakfast or walks or other outings. My true friends have firmly encouraged me to stop living like a hermit - insisting I need to step outside and see the sunshine and smell the breeze and appreciate that I am still alive.

And I agree.

It's just real damn hard sometimes.


NB-C said...


I can only begin to imagine the pain and hurt you still have after losing Maeve. I'm not going to tell you that it'll get better because I don't know that it will. You know I'm a big fan of therapy and depression is a very real thing. Let me know if you need me for anything.

Anonymous said...

We just met at the CWB meeting (I'm Olivia IRL) your posts about Maeve bring tears to my eyes - they are so beautifully written, and so raw. I truly believe that her soul is somewhere happy, ready to return to earth to make it a brighter place. I hope that you and everyone who love her can find peace.