First Day Without Her
Today was my first day without Waverly.
Even though we have been anticipating for the 7.5 years since the kids were diagnosed with Sanfilippo Syndrome and especially since Wavey started hospice last month, nothing could have prepared us for the moment. I still cannot believe it is real. That I won't wake up and realize this is simply another horrible nightmare. And if I run into Wavey's room she'll be cuddled up with her lambie snoring rhythmically.
I now understand when people say they ache for a loved one.
I understand that grief is painful. That is needs to be given respect. That anticipating grief in no way feels like actual grief.
Grief started as a scream from deep within my soul. I was unable to control the wailing. Even in my sleep I scream.
I miss Waverly.
I feel so blessed to have been her mommy. To have been there when she took her first breath and her last. To witness the incredibly impact she had on all who met her.
I held Oliver tonight before bed. He was calm and content in my arms, nuzzled against my chest. And I cannot be fully present. I am aching for Wavey and I am terrified that I am going to have to go through all of this again when it is his time.