Curbside Voting is Available if Necessary

What a week.  Kind of emotional.  OK not even kind of a lot.  Nothing has "happened" per se.  Just that same old yearning, desperate missing of Ellie back again.  Tiresome and wearying.

Tuesday we had a recall election (you may or may not have heard about this).  I went to vote and as I walked into the cafeteria of Ellie's school, the place was empty save for a table full of people to assist voters.  It was like walking onto the set of American Idol, as if I were the contestant and they were the judges.  I immediately began to weep.  (I would not do well under the kind of pressure facing real contestants!)  Because Ben goes to the K-2nd grade elementary school in our neighborhood, we have not, as of yet, made any new memories in Ellie's school.  Anyway, a very kind gentleman gave me some napkins and told me that if I needed to I could do "curbside voting" if that would help.  When Lotta saw that I was weeping, she became scared and sad and she started to wail.  She is not a girl to leave me alone with my sorrow.  Reminded me of the nurse at the hospital who said she never let anyone cry alone (my sister thought she might not let anyone drink alone either...)  Lotta and I stood and cried for a few minutes, while I pulled myself together enough to vote. 

On Wednesday I brought lunch for our favorite oncology nurses.  It is always wange being near the hospital now.  And being in a somewhat weepy emotional state did not help things.  Oh how I longed for one of those days hanging with Ellie in the hospital.  I mean I know everyone thinks the hospital is so horrible.  And there were times just hanging, me and Ellie,

playing office, where all the housework is removed, all those extra distractions, that there was just this awesome energy, peacefulness in the room, as we both went about the business of creating busy-ness.  Me usually blogging.  Ellie usually peeling crayons in her bed. 

Then Thursday I was going through one of Ellie's toys, intending to give it to one of our friends who works with children with Autism.  As I began putting all the pieces back together, I realized, it would have been Ellie who would have taken all the pieces apart.  Sort of like crayons, she could not stand for all the pieces to be together.  I don't know why it just struck me as incredibly sad that her hands were the last to touch those little pieces.  And made me yearn ever more for her.

Lotta being holly-wood.

Then Friday, I was sharing some of this with my mom.  As I was sharing it with my mom, I felt chills, which to me, is my indicator that Ellie is close by (or it's January in Wisconsin).  It was as if Ellie were saying, "It's OK, I know you miss me.  It's OK."  Giving me one of her fantastically terrific Ellie hugs from the ever after.  Later I heard the song, "Brown Eyed Girl" on the radio which always reminds me of Ellie now.  Our favorite PICU nurse shared how she heard that song right after she discovered she was pregnant and felt like it was a message from Ellie, that girl with those bring brown eyes, so wise.

And in a strange way, at times, I don't mind hanging out in this slow tender space.  It feels like it makes me more aware.  More aware of the beauty of these moments with my children.  More aware of the beauty of Wisconsin in the summer time.  More aware and peaceful and appreciative.  So, I'm just planning on resting here until I'm ready to move forward.