Get Over Yourself

Some days I feel like I need a shirt that says: “I lost my daughter. Get over yourself.”


Today was a bad day. It’s a bad month to have a bad month if you know what I mean. The constant effing heat (30-some days over 100 degrees and no end in sight) combined with a ridiculous workload mean very little riding or time for sanity resets (of which riding was my primary).

I’m still having to deal with the cemetery because Margot’s headstone is still not done. My handler there is very nice but emails have failed to transfer for whatever reasons and it takes me weeks to return normal phone calls yet alone these. The font I originally chose (Helvetica) was too big to fit even though we chose no additional text. Today I just went by there because I was nearby and knew that was going to be the quickest way to keep this god damned process moving forward. They had at least given me two options that were the closest and would fit. I picked something-gothic.

It was a quick stop but I still found myself wrecked afterward–and headed to work. This song by my friend Tom Conlon left me sobbing as I drove down I75. Don’t get me wrong, it is probably my favorite song of all time. But the longing it conveys is so much more intense now. That this current life is but a dream that leads to the reality of the next should be some comfort to me* …Her wait for me is like a day. My wait is my lifetime.

A lifetime of longing. The emotions all came to the front. It happens in the car so much more frequently than anywhere else.


Then on the way home from work I stopped by Whole Foods for Necessary Supplies (for Frito-pie and sanity) and for whatever reason it was filled with beautiful 1-2 year old girls. One right at the entrance who was obviously as full of wonder and joy at life as Margot was. Another played with the offerings in the open chiller in the first isle. Your boys aren’t much trouble, your newborns even I can handle. But your 1 year old girls punch me in the chest, penetrate my ribcage and squeeze my heart until it bruises.

* maaan I have an entire post about this subject and a man I met about a month ago who was like a prophet to me. So far it has been too much to try and process in written words.

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