Loudly quiet in no-mans land

Gwen.

This blog is missing so much.

I haven't written about our meeting with the cardiologist in October about the "final report." I still haven't posted about the wonderful heart-walk results. I've wanted to tell of all the angels you've introduced me to - and their amazing mommies who have done wonderful acts of love in their angles name. I still have never really wrote with completeness about that day, May 14th, the day you left. I got stuck last time I tried to tell it all. And now, it seems pointless. What is to tell. You left. (Then Marie left?)

Yet. I can't not mention here that someone we love has left again before I ever get back to what this blog as I re-purposed it - a place where I didn't tell of the goings on inside my head regarding our double loss. Instead, I feel I must mention our third loss this year and the fact that I'm going to struggle forever to take comfort knowing you now have your Uncle Winship with you.

I haven't had words, yet I wandered over here, because I can't ignore this fact...and lament here that this blog has become a record of a horrible things - losses too huge really for us to step into fully - I write, yet I don't buy all that is here. Your sweet blog, Gwen, was supposed to be telling about your life and progress as a "CHD warrior." This little space on the Internet was not supposed to layout tragedy, upon tragedy, upon tragedy. Baby-loss, accidental death and bi-polar driven suicide.

Yet, it all happened. It now is a record that tells of three people gone to us.... Losing just you, Gwen, did us in and tore us up. Marie - I still don't fully accept you as gone. If I don't grieve you, you aren't gone yet, right? But how do we do this? How do we move into a new, new reality where someone left, and again, suddenly, dramatically and tragically?

My heart and head are clogged. I'm stunned into a place where I just push it all aside. Yet, the loud quietness of three people gone resounds.

It is too much to let go of yet, without choice given. So for now we exist, in our hearts, somewhere in between where we were and where we've been dropped. Our lives, right now, are no-mans land...even as we understand clearly, there is no choice into which place we are required to exist.

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I watch the days - I live parallel to two people excited about their second child. Excited yet wondering just how we were going to do two kids... it seemed a bit daunting even as we were looking so forward to two children in our life.

I watch the days and see us one year ago - waiting for the 20 week ultrasound. Wondering if we would be welcoming a boy or a girl and planning to find out because we couldn't wait to know.

Who are those two people? I hardly recognize them.