Loves, Hates, Wishes, and Queso

It's been almost a year. Almost a year since I've heard her voice. Almost a year since she hugged me. Almost a year since we've fought. Almost a year since we went to the movies. Almost a year since I helped her with her homework. Almost a year since we went on a shopping spree at Wal-Mart. Almost a year since I was really, truly happy.

I miss her silly voices. I miss the British accent where she called everyone "George". I miss her saying "Ello Gov'nah." I miss her faces. I miss her obsession with Doug. I miss her love of Ariel. I miss her hatred of Tinkerbell. I miss the way she sang in the shower. I miss the way she loved to eat tortellini with me on Wednesday nights. I miss the way she still slept with me when Kevin was away on business. I miss the way she made me feel like I mattered.

I hate what the world has done to us. I hate that she doesn't know we moved. I hate that I had to sell her car. I hate that I ate at Chili's tonight and I had queso just for her. I hate that Doug is going off to college without her. I hate that the tears catch in the back of my throat when I see her friends. I hate that it's American Idol time and she's not here to tell me she hates American Idol and still watch it from the corner of the kitchen. I hate that I don't have a daughter anymore. I hate that she isn't here to be so proud of me for quitting my stinky job. I hate that I had to fight cancer without her. I hate that no one brushes Berk's teeth anymore. I hate missing her to the point of exhaustion.

I wish I could get a massive do-over. I wish I didn't have to have a benefit fundraiser for my daughter. I wish smart, pretty, considerate, audacious little girls didn't have to die. I wish for one more vacation. I wish for one more lazy Saturday by the pool. I wish for that graduation trip to New York. I wish she had gotten to go to her prom. I wish she had gotten to go to college....or to get married.....or to have a baby girl of her own. I wish I could travel back in time. I wish I could take her picture in a field of bluebonnets again. I wish I could just see her chubby little fingers once more. I wish my boys still had a little sister.

Why is it that we can only figure out how to do things better when we've run out of time? Why is it that the precious things are so difficult to appreciate? Why is it that the things we think are important are really so nauseatingly superficial? Why is it that it takes losing a child to see the ridiculous un-importance of a Coach purse? Why is it so hard to sit down in the floor in your child's room when they ask you for 5 minutes of your attention? Why is it that I haven't slept in 3 days and it is still impossible for me to close my eyes and turn off my brain? Why is it that going to Chili's and seeing an outpouring of love from so many people would make me this inconsolably sad? Why is it so hard to go to the cemetery? Why is it so hard to move on?

These are just a few of the things I think about everyday. When you lose someone, it never gets any easier. I see that now. The tears don't come as often, but each time they do come, they are doubly painful and last twice as long. The questions are never answered, but they are always coming at you from every direction of your mind. There is no peace. There is no silence. There are just beautiful, achingly sweet memories. There are friends. There is Chili's. There is queso. And, there is the knowledge that something really, really great has exited your life. But, at least it was there for a moment.