Lots of friends lately have commented on how much Lotta looks like Ben. This is Ellie at around 2 years.

Recently a friend shared how she'd read that the hardest part of losing someone you love is thinking about the rest of your life without that loved one.  This definitely feels like a seriously sad thought.  However, I think what hits me is how I want Ellie here RIGHT NOW.  That enormous desire to jump back into the past and be with her once again.

On Sunday as I was in the shower, I suddenly had the feeling of being with Ellie wash over me.  That indescribable feeling I had of playing office with Ellie, the feeling of her being in the room.  THAT is what I miss most.  And as I realized this was what I was missing, I felt empowered knowing that I could work towards this feeling any time.

 

Here is Lotta a couple of months ago. Imagine her without all the food on her face...

Then came today.  Laying in the dental chair early this morning, a tiny tear started to roll down my check.  I felt like Patrick Kyle, when he felt teary and he yelled at his tear to, "Stay in there!"  But once one tear started to emerge, many others joined in.  Until the poor dental hygienist was afraid she was hurting me terribly.  I think this grief is less wet when I stay on the go--it catches up with me when I am lying still.  Which I suppose is "good" to get some out.  However it seems hard to shake it off for the rest of the day.  It's like a tornado that sweeps up everything in its path.  But a slow moving tornado, as everything seems so slowed way down.

[caption id="attachment_4190" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Ellie or Lotta? Either one would adore that bun. (did you notice how that rhymed?)"][/caption]

Unfortunately, my emergency contact (my super sensational sister Susan) is currently on her way to Disney.  How could I call all weepy-fied and rain on her Disney "everyday is happy all the time and every night is fireworks parade"?  Seriously, I don't wanna be THAT guy (or woman, I should say, Ellie always corrected us on using the term "guy" for a female).  OMG and it is so challenging to call ANYONE when I am in this weepy space.  I don't like myself much and feel like maybe I should just keep this all concealed (which is why I am blogging about it.)

I ended up calling my brother, Kip, also part of my "A" team, interrupting his bike ride.  I was sobbing so hard when I called that he thought something had happened.  After conversing for a few minutes, I felt much much better to continue functioning and avoiding the mountains of laundry that have somehow accumulated once again in the green room.  Best go and attend to that while Lotta is napping.