2 years? Perhaps.

I’ve asked myself a few questions with regard to the loss of Sophia.

-How long, if ever, till she no longer crosses my mind every day?

-How long, if ever, till November 19th is no longer a deeply dark day that I struggle to get through?

The first question, I’ve written a few times about in this blog, the answer is never. Plain and simple, she has appeared in my mind, sometimes once a day, sometimes many many times a day, since the day she was conceived. I don’t think it will ever change and quite frankly I’m ok with it. In a strange way thinking of her is comfort, a reminder of the big picture of life and a reminder to tune out the noise of life.

Her memory and my thoughts of her are like a bird sitting on my shoulder chirping a constant melody over the din of day, or as The Police might say “the din of my Rice Crispies”, which could be a reference to the noise of life if you sit and listen to the song quite carefully. (Though it wasn’t until the moment I wrote the last sentence that I thought of the line that way.)

As for the second question? I can at least say for this anniversary and this anniversary alone, the amount of time it takes is 2 years. I found myself expecting a great chasm of emotion today, but it’s not there and it seems foreign, a bit.

I don’t for one second read this to mean I no longer care, or that “I’m over it”.

What callous (and that is a kind word for what I think of the people I’m about to describe) person thinks you just “get over it” with regard to your child dying? Yeah, there are some very callous people out there, I still know a few. They come in all sizes, shapes and relationships. Strangers, family and friends alike have all mentioned, some within days of her death, that perhaps we should just get over “it”.

Their use of the term “it” rather than “death” and “daughter” together, speaks volumes. Instead of recognizing their own inability to deal with reality (through the use of "it"), they give us assvice. “Get over it” rolls off their tongue like clothes off a stripper. Yeah I know, a debatable analogy but my blog is mine, it’s a dictatorship to coin a phrase from “loud secret’s” recent post.

Back to today.

I’m thinking of her, I miss her terribly, I miss all the things she would have brought to our family/friends and wasn’t able to. I regret her loss and the hole it’s left for those of us still thinking of her, missing her and honoring her. I realize as sure as there will never be a day I don’t think of her, there will also be a changing tide of emotions over time.

Are they just buried deeper or does the sting fade to grey? It’s one of those mysteries of life no one will ever know, it will always be open to interpretation.

The next time I’m eating Rice Crispies I just might hear the sweet melody of a bird and think of her over the din, we all need a bird on our shoulder from time to time to remind us to look past the din.