An emotional day.

I am getting off track here. I had intended to stick to my timeline. the timeline of your diagnosis to July 25th, 2009.
But I am off track in my life right now, so I am going off here too.
I miss you. I am walking around the yard pulling weeds today when suddenly tears begin to fall. There is the spot you loved to lay in. There is the rock you drank rain water from. There is the other spot you loved because the dirt was always damp so the spot was always cool.
When I went to get the broom, there was your collar. And your leash. With the poop bag holder newly stuffed full of bags. I think back to the day I put those bags in. July 23rd. Papa took you to the park. You loved Papa, and loved the park.
I remember watching you trot off with him. I was running with the kids to get some dinner. You seemed so happy and so healthy. But things were brewing and that nasty tumor was beginning its evil plot of taking you from me. Shortly there after, you would be gone.
It is amazing the amount of grief that takes over when this happens. Sadness, disbelief, anger, loneliness. All of it comes at me like a giant wave that I can't run from. It is a tsunami. Too big, too fast, and too forceful to ignore. I lay on the floor next to your bed. I was up until late last night thinking of you and where you slept in all the houses we lived in. I couldn't remember the spot in our home in Utah. I had to text Daddy. Sometime as I was beginning to drift off, it started to become clear. You slept next to me. You always slept by me in the early years.
When I came inside I called Jackie. We talked about stuff, normal stuff. Until I brought you up and then I cried and recounted what my day had been like today to her. She told me to cry, not to worry. She understood my love for you.
I understand that I am supposed to miss you. Be sad, grieve, cry, etc. etc. What I am experiencing is more than that though. It is bigger and more painful then I ever expected. How could I have determined what my grief would feel like? How was I to know that your death meant a big part of me would be missing too. I told Drew the other day when we were in the car that it felt like someone took a shovel and scooped out a lot of my insides when you died. I feel empty without you. I have love and I have happiness with Daddy and the kids that I am grateful for. I love them all so much. But the house is missing something with you gone. A big something. I can't explain what it is. But we have all been effected by it. We all carry it around on our sleeves as if it is a burden we must bear. We are happy, life is good. But not the same. It never will be sweet girl. Not unless you come back. Can you? Please? The wind will blow sometimes and I feel like it is you telling me you are near. The wind chimes out back are bittersweet to hear. They remind me of you, but also of our last night together. I want a sign from you, something to tell me you are okay. Something to tell me you are not mad at me and that I made the right choice to let you go. See, I just miss you so much and I feel not only this tremendous sadness, but guilt as well. I think it was the right decision. I want you back to let me know that it was. Or not.
I keep picturing when they took you from me on the gurney. You heart had stopped, but mine was still beating. Mine was broken and yours was stopped. You looked at peace on the gurney. But my heart and mind were not at peace. Will they ever be at peace angel girl?