Leaving home for this trip is a lot harder than I thought it would be. I have actually been anxious about it for a while. I've been anxious about a lot of things for a while. Things that never really bothered me before make me jittery. When your entire world is ripped apart at the seams, stuff will do that to you. I know it is good for me to get away. I really am looking forward to seeing Tracey and her family in Seattle - and all the sights. I'm excited to take pictures of Kenley's K wherever I go. And there it is - the bittersweet thought that is the crux of the matter.
The truth is, I should not be on this trip. As happy as I am to see friends, I am so sad that I am able to go. I should have a three month old. I should have a baby in a carrier, not a K in my purse. I should be at my house, surrounded by rattles and blankets. Overwhelmed with piles of laundry. Kenley should be napping in her crib. I shouldn't be here. At the airport. Waiting to get on a plane for a trip I am only able to take because my daughter is dead.
I know I can't let this attitude get the best of me. Usually, I am able to overcome the negative thoughts and face my moments with strength and courage. But, it's hard this time. I am away from Mike and Darwin. I am away from my living room where her paintings are. Where her ashes are. In just a few hours, I will be the farthest away from her I have ever been. And that makes me anxious.
Airports are hotbeds of human activity. So, of course, babies and pregnant women are even more prevalent. As soon as Mike dropped me off, I got in line to check my bag. In front of me was a young mother and her infant daughter. Of course it had to be a girl. The baby was all snug in her stroller. Mom doted on her as we waited in line. For twenty minutes. Twenty minutes, I had to watch this mother and her daughter interact with each other. Away from all of my comforts for the first time in three months - that twenty minutes felt like an eternity. I must have looked ridiculous with my sunglasses on inside the airport, but I had to hide the tears somehow.
Just when I think things are starting get easier, BAM. Life sucker punches me again. Nope! You are still here without her. She is still gone. She will always be gone and you will just have to deal with it. And I am so sick of "dealing with it". I hate dealing with it. I hate that I spent time this week painting a wooden K so I could take pictures of it on my trip. I hate that this morning, I said goodbye to a tiny pink vase in my living room. I hate it all. It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fair.
I sit here, alone, waiting to board my plane. Watching all of the families organize themselves for their trip. The kids playing on their ipads. The moms arranging the snacks. The dads checking the game scores. And I wish I could be a carefree traveler again. A carefree anything again. Someone who doesn't have to walk through life carefully avoiding anything that might cause me to cry. Or being caught off guard by something I wasn't expecting.
I know once I get there, I will see Tracey and we will immediately start having a fantastic time. Is just this transition time that is hard. I am not home. I am not there. I am in between. Missing everything I don't have with me - and missing even more what I will never have back.