I think Mary has finally fallen asleep. Things have been, you know, not normal. Poor little thing.
I'm not sure where to go from here. What to say. So much has happened since I last talked here on Wednesday that it seems impossible to even begin to share it all. So I guess I'll just write a little something for the next seven days and maybe at the end you'll know something about the miracle of the Church in our lives, of friendship and family and love and grace.
Nicholas' funeral Mass was on Friday morning. It was quiet and beautiful and lovely and terrible. But so Good. We needed the peace and closure so badly. There was no way, I don't think, I could have survived the weekend without laying him to rest. I didn't have to do anything. I didn't make or take a single phone call. My husband, our pastor, our parish, our friends- they did it all. A beautiful Trappist casket arrived in less than 24 hours...somehow. Everything about the last seven days is a somehow. Somehow life goes on. Somehow the miracle of love can carry us through storms we didn't even know could be so painful.
My mom flew in on Saturday. She is here with us for the week and thank God for that. If I had to be alone, I would survive. Probably. But I'm glad I don't have to find out.
If you've sent me an email or a message or a tweet, know that I have read every. single. one. And as the fog lifts a little, I will try and respond. You've touched my heart and our lives in ways you could never imagine.
Nicholas had such sweet, tiny feet. I loved Bronson Methodist Hospital. They took such good care of us.
Alright, I think that's about all I can manage. They started demolition on the laundry room today. I am thankful for the blessing of a distraction. My kids here on Earth, my mom, drywall dust, they keep me present. Maybe I can talk more about that tomorrow.