Last day of March--

Next week is approaching fast--too fast. I don't feel ready in any sense to be in April and I don't feel ready in any sense to relive Micah's death. I'm angry at time for moving at a pace I'm not ready for, and I'm uptight-exhausted-jittery. My dreams are slowly beginning to become simultaneously become wackier and scarier...everything has built up to this week and I'm feeling all sorts of anticipation.

Today was beautiful and I felt like I had to make the best out of it, being the last day of March. So I brought out my sidewalk chalk and doodled for awhile...

Hello, April.

This moment is sacred.

They are walking towards me
Their faces are solemn
Their steps are long and last forever
They are saying something now
"Becca, Micah is taking a turn for the worse He is not going to make it"

This moment is sacred It is just me and a huge universe It is just me and eternity It is just me and God dangling by a string

My body slinks My heart stops The earth spins My world shatters.

Recent events that make me happy:

4:00 in the morning hikes that result in laughter and exhaustion in a memorable attempt to witness a glimpse of a Virginia sunrise.
Buying a pack of sidewalk chalk from Walmart and knowing it has endless possibilities to be used.
A new kitten that sleeps in my bed at night and wakes me up in the morning.
Jumping on the trampoline with Jeremy.
Italian ice, skirts and flip flops, open windows, morning runs.

Spending a sunny afternoon on the back porch, surrounded by my two families, one biological and one not. Knowing that we've spent endless hours together this year, at first gathered around a hospital bed, crying, but now gathered around a table, laughing. Knowing with comfort that we will always have each other.

11.

You were here. And then suddenly not here.
But maybe now you're a combination of the both.

I never know what quite to do on the 8th of each month. Usually I end up doing ordinary things, but sneak in a Micah-like action as a tribute. Today my tribute was a solo dance party in my car, which seemed like a Micah thing to do.

Tradition also calls that I take a bubble bath. Sometimes I also sneak in a bowl of ice cream. (Sometimes you just deserve to spoil yourself.)

I'm loving this sunshine, though it is also a physical reminder of how time has gone by. One of those mixed-feelings things I love but hate.

I want to thank those that have already begun to think of me as the one-year mark approaches. Yesterday I received a 45 minute massage certificate as things "get more stressful." It's the little things like this that remind me how I've been held so lovingly in my community this year. My gratitude overflows.

So yes, here we are literally one month before April. I'm trying to tell myself to live in the moment and just appreciate each day, instead of always thinking about what's going to come next. Perhaps that is easier said than done.

3/4/10.

If you would have told me last year that I would be spending my day, one year later, designing Micah's gravestone, I wouldn't have believed you.

Yet it's unfathomable how life can alter in a year. I spent several hours today slouched over a giant piece of paper, working on the lettering and design to be etched into Micah's large sandstone rock.

It's a surreal experience to have to do this for someone you love dearly, and I certainly could never have imagined I'd be doing it for Micah. Somehow seeing "1990-2009" written in my own handwriting brought an ache to my heart like nothing else. That's only 18 years. It should have been so many more than that.

Around this time last year, I took a Drawing class that required daily sketches. Micah would help me sometimes on my assignments, coloring in different parts or giving advice. He always claimed he wasn't artistic in the least bit, so he was impressed even with my mediocre art skills. I smile to myself remembering this, because he probably would have stood back, aghast and impressed, if he could see what I ended up doing for his gravestone, as simple as it is. Josef and I laughed together today, remembering that Micah was never a detail person--he was all about the big picture.

All in all, however, I'm grateful to be contributing to the design, and it does mean a lot to me. It's things like this that I can't even imagine being in Goshen during--staying home is worth it even in this sense.

This world still seems dream-like and I still awaken by the second in shock. Micah died?--no. He is gone for the rest of my life?--no. Come Monday will be the last "anniversary" before the actual one-year marking. Where did time go? When will this "new normal" actually feel normal? When will we be able to feel full again? How will I pull through this already dark and bleak March?

I'm glad this week is almost over. It's been one of the more difficult ones in awhile...I look forward to sunshine.

You.

I miss your beautiful face.

Welcoming in March with the moon.

Midnight has revealed a perfectly full moon, so I've decided to sit here in the patch of moonlight streaming through my skylight...

Welcome, March. May you bring some needed sunshine and happiness, and may these four weeks feel steadying as we hold hands and brace ourselves for April.

[When Molly was home this past week she helped me carry out an idea I had in my head, for this blog. I found a can of alphabet soup and sorted through it until I could spell out "Tear Soup." Then she used her nice camera to take a picture. Cool, huh? I'm about to tiptoe into the kitchen and eat the rest for a midnight snack.]