I don’t notice it most of the time. I choose not to. There is living to be done. She would want that.
Most of the time now, it’s business as usual. Even mentally, despite my introspective tendencies to hash and rehash everything.
But there is still this hole.
Where she should be.
Since Baboo 2 made her appearance I haven’t been able to ignore the hole. There is the absence of her arms to place her grandchild in. The absence of her voice to reassure me. The absence of her hand to squeeze mine. The absence of her giddiness at not just any baby to hold and ooo and ahh at, but her grand-daughter.
I had her sweater with me in the delivery room and after. In quiet moments when no one was around, I would lean into it and cry wishing for her to share in those beautiful first moments of my daughters life.
She should be here to see that Baboo 2 has dark hair, and beautiful alert eyes during her awake time. She should be here to muse at her easy-going nature. She should be here to hear that she is named after her mother (my Grandma)–the other most extraordinary woman to bless my life.
And today… my first day on my own, for some reason the awareness of the hole is especially strong. I want to talk to her. I want to share my children with her. I want to hear her laugh, and smile, and remember what she looks like when she’s sitting across the room from me, or what it feels like to hear her voice on the other side of the phone-line. I want her. This is no time to not have a mother.
I don’t see it most of the time, but the hole is still there. Truthfully, I still just can’t help but feel like she should be here.