If you’re freshly off a loss (or four), I don’t recommend going to a parade. Did you know parades are filled with happy families and smiling babies? Apparently I had forgotten this because I went to one this morning and I didn’t handle it very well. It started out okay, I even had a mocha in my hands as a special treat. But the longer I sat there waiting for the parade to start, the more I looked around, and the more I was hit with visions of what I may never be able to have, but want with every bone in my body. I tried to keep the tears away for as long as I could. They were filling my eyes, threatening to fall. When they finally did, I couldn’t get them to stop. I told Tim we’d have to leave as soon as it was over (there was a fair and music afterward), and he happily obliged. As soon as the last horse passed, we squeezed through the crowds and walked towards home. It took all I had to make it to the house before I broke down.
This is the part I hate. The part where I can’t be a part of society without being reminded of my losses and what I could have had. I wonder how long this will last….when the time will come that I can handle being around families and babies and not feel as if my heart is being ripped out of my chest. I wonder when the tears will stop falling and I’ll be okay.
It feels like it’s not even on the horizon.