Writing in this online journal has become a catharsis for me. It's odd to write down my private thoughts. At the same time it seems the less I edit what I write the more it seems to make sense. Anyway, I was thinking about what I wrote the other day about finding truth and it setting you free. It seems like such a little thing. But as soon as I typed it I knew it was really a big thing.
In the darkest corner of my mind the one question I want to ask of everyone that knew Kristy is, "Did she know how much I loved her?" But why would this be so important? Why is this the one thing that makes me break into tears every time and keeps me awake at night. And why am I afraid and even embarrassed to ask?
When your daughter is alive you don't walk up to her and say, "Do you know how much I love you?" The question is self defeating. What you're really doing is asking for confirmation when you really don't want to do the hard work of making sure, you just want the "yes." And the other person knows this and just gives you what you want. On the other hand, this is what you're telling your loved one over and over each time you show them - from the smallest kindness to the largest sacrifice. Love is not passive. When someone is truly loved they know it. If there's anything I want to be sure of it's that my daughter knew how much I loved her.
I have spent the last 10 months of my life trying to make sense of what has happened. There are so many questions. I wonder what my life would be like if this had not happened. Would I know then what I know now - how indescribably precious every day is?
Today's workout: 30 minutes cross training at the gym. My nose is getting stuffy, what a bad time to be fighting a cold!
How well you express in these last two blogs the questions which arise from the contemplation of death and love.
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