I wish this blog post title was more significant than a song name, but it’s not. There are no mountains being moved here; same old me, same old grief. Actually, the grief seems to be getting…weird and different.

Today, while driving to pick Landon up from school I passed a funeral procession. Pretty terrible thing to pass, honestly. I hate that I immediately felt sad and thought about who died, but mostly I felt sad. I was overwhelmed.

I was listening to a song I had forgotten about that randomly popped into my head so I found it on youtube on my drive. It really really moves me. I used to listen to it stupidly loud in my car on my way to work when I lived in Troy.

Troy.

Landon was conceived and born in Troy. I had friends in Troy. I was normal in Troy. I didn’t have a dead child. Things were less complicated, yet at the same time they weren’t.  I don’t know. It’s so frustrating.

As the song boomed over my speakers, and I sat at the top of the hill able to see all of the cars in the funeral procession, I couldn’t help but cry.  I couldn’t stop myself. I don’t know these people…yet I’ve been those people. Who knows? Maybe they lost their child, but I doubt it. It seems like I’m the only person who has lost a healthy full term baby, I swear to god.

I couldn’t watch the cars go by. I looked out the passenger side window. I wonder if anyone noticed me intentionally looking the other way. All I could think was ” I didn’t give her a funeral and she fucking deserved it.”

She deserved at least that, and I didn’t give it to her.

I hate that I even thought that. I don’t want to think that. I don’t want to have to worry about it.

Should I have given her a funeral? How are you supposed to know what to do in that situation?

Lately I’ve noticed myself being triggered about a lot of things. I guess even at nearly 26 months out, it still stings like the day it happened.

The first holiday that I “came out of the fog” after Kenley died.

She got a Valentine’s Day outfit for Christmas.

I remember sitting on my bed, feeling like I wanted to die. REALLY wanted to die. I felt that I wanted to hurt myself and stop living. It was the only time I really felt that.

I cried and cried and cried. Then I called psychiatrists.

No one had an opening to see me ASAP.

I remember feeling the most hopeless feeling.

I sometimes think back to those days and wonder how I survived. What pulled me through? I’d like to think that it was my strength or my family or whatever, but honestly? I think that back then I was afraid to die.

Things change.

Life is weird. 4 Valentines Days later and I still have PTSD over this day.

Most people hate it because they are alone…and I guess that’s kind of why I hate it, too.

Just alone in a totally different way.

Happy Valentines Day in the stars, my sweet Kenley. I love you and miss you every second.