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Still Loved

It has been over a month since I have written really anything, here or otherwise. The passing of time has been really stifling to me. A few mile markers have past. June 11th was the 8 month marker from the day Ella died. Her gravestone marker also came in, and that brought on a mix of emotions from sadness and anger to guilt and fear. My Grandma actually was the first one to see it, because Ella is buried next to my Grandpa. For some reason I couldn’t bring myself to see it right away–then I felt guilty for not going. I finally went with Jason, we looked at it, and I fought back every morbid thought with the knowledge that she wasn’t there anymore.

I’ve actually been avoiding my blog because my last post caused a lot of strife and hurt, and I felt afraid to be honest. But this is my safe place to express, and if someone is reading this for ammo I will be sure not to give them any. This has never been a place to do anything but grieve for my daughter, and process my emotions. I can honestly say I have a clear conscience. With that being said, I’m not going to be afraid anymore, and I wont ever be silent about my daughters impact. I miss her so much these days…

This grief now plays with my imagination. I walk into my kitchen and I think she should be there in a high chair, smiling at me. I continually mourn for the time I never got with her. Its no longer a thought like, “she would be here in two months,” it’s “oh she would’ve been four months old today.” The utter unfairness of it all is what baffles me.

I’ve been incredibly busy with my music, and my video projects–and as they are coming to fruition and completion I feel an incredible tidal wave of fresh grief. Two of these songs and videos are about Ella and the incredible void she has left. I will have to reenact our story. The joy, the disappointment, the hopes and dreams being dashed all over again. I am sort of dreading this,but at the same time every bit of my heart is pushing for it. I need to tell this story with every fiber of my being. To honor her, to break the silence, to say once and for all here the truth is…you cannot pretend this did not happen. I need to do this for all the mothers who cannot express their sadness.  This Thursday is the day, the props are gathered, costumes set, storyboards finished…now all that’s left is to go back to that innocent time, then watch my world crumble again.

 

This past weekend was incredibly rewarding and draining. I had a big festival, played seven slots and probably met a couple hundred people. There were a few bittersweet moments that really touched me. One of these moments took place at my merch table. I was signing an autograph for a little girl, and when I asked her name…she said Ella. I then told her and her mother that I had a daughter named Ella, but that Ella was in heaven. I wanted to cry, but at times like that you kind of have to hold it together. The other bittersweet moment was backstage at the artist tent. Jason and I were taking a break from the heat when we ran in to two band wives that we knew. They were both pushing strollers and both had an adorable baby girl. Sometimes when I run into these kind of situations I push Ella and my loss to the back of my brain and I kind of enter robot mode. If I were to truly express my grief and sadness in that moment, I’m afraid of what would happen. Being polite I asked their names, and that was when mom number two told me that they had actually named their daughter Jetty. Even though I avoid holding baby girls this little Jetty was the exception. I held her for awhile and she brought a little peace and love to my mothers heart. When I left, I burst into tears…Ella should’ve met little Jetty.

 

My weekend culminated at my mother in laws birthday party. My adorable niece was there. Seeing how big she had gotten, and how much joys she brought to my family made me ache. I locked myself in a bathroom and cried. I cried because although I am functioning and living, I couldn’t remember the last time I had truly laughed. I’m missing that carefree joy. Im missing the little girl who should’ve brought it to me. I’m missing the little giggles, the smiles, the hair bows, the dresses, the beach toys, the sunblock. I just can’t even imagine how amazing it would be to hold your daughter, and have her hands hold you back. Thank you KV BIJOU for sending me this beautiful ring.

 

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