But I didn’t. I packed everything back up. More quickly than I’d intended to and put the box away. It’s just too hard to look at it. I have framed pictures of I&P. Pictures that were hanging on our wall in our last apartment. Pictures I planned to hang along side the pictures of our living children (at that time I planned on having more than one living child). Now? I’m not sure I can do it. When we move, I may just hang a picture of the three of us and call it good. I’m not sure I can emotionally handle seeing I&P’s pictures every day.
I never thought I would feel that way. That’d it’d be harder to see their pictures than to not.
Grief is such an interesting monster. It has taken on so many forms in the past 2 1/2 years. I’ve had times when I was happy and was surprised. And I’ve had times when I’ve struggled and that surprised me too. It’s an ever consuming roller coaster of emotions.
Not long after I’d put the box back, Owen woke up from his nap. His sweet smile and insistence on bringing his blankie and pacifier downstairs cheered up my heart. He’s so good. Even when he’s not feeling well (chemo is hitting him), he makes me laugh.