Um, okay, why am I so icky inside this week?
It’s Nattie Week. Friday, I don the tiara and celebrate her heaven birthday. Each year is the tiniest sliver of a bit easier but this ugly feeling never goes entirely away. This “Why her?” screaming turns to Why Me pity all too easily. Nattie wouldn’t want that.
I love you Nattie-Pie. I miss you. I sort of want to punch God in the face for taking you away from us.
How is that even possible?
I still don’t care for talk of Heaven. My mind cannot grasp it. It doesn’t make me feel better.
I leave books in bathroom stalls. I write your blog address inside the covers. I want to spread the bookish Nattie love. I think you’d like that.
I wish I could see your kids grow up.
I wish YOU could see your kids grow up.
I wish you could…
I wish you could everything.
I love you.