Yesterday (Saturday), I kept myself extremely busy.
- lifted weights
- dusted every surface in my office
- straightened and organized the garage some
- de-winterized the trailer
- cleaned the trailer
- played ball with my daughter
- mopped, vacuumed, and reorganized the office
- replaced the garage door sensor
Really, I did anything except work on editing my book. Emotionally taxing as it is, the book is not the main thing being avoided. Being alone with my thoughts right now hits like a gut punch.
The other day I discussed with a friend who also lost her son to suicide how we consider some days as “good”. Our good day would force most other people to the floor under the weight of grief. Everyday used to send me to the floor, but now only the bad days send me reeling.
I have had three weeks of bad days, which surprises me. Even on a “good day” Caleb is on my mind often, and Alex and Emily are a few times a week. Now, thoughts of various foster children we cared for accompany the three natural children daily. Eight of my babies ripped from my arms in diverse ways.
These cherished babies, discussed in God is in the Doubt, have a special hold on my heart. I would post all of their photos if the state allowed it. I stumbled over a trove of their pictures I had not seen in many years. Some had Caleb, and you know how special this is. I will share them all eventually, but here are a couple.