Yesterday afternoon, Luke and I drove home from the hospital with a trunk full of Olivia’s belongings. We came home and took a nap. We sat on the back deck, and made a toast to Olivia. We picked up the house, cooked dinner, and watched a movie. I can’t say those are the things we thought we would do after losing our daughter, but those are the things we did. We drove with the windows down, wanting to feel the outside air, and appreciate life. We watched two dragonflies buzz around our back deck, reminding us of the line from my favorite Olivia book about ladybugs who didn’t fly away.
We cried some, and talked a lot, as we thought about Olivia. I laughed out loud while we ate dinner, thinking how silly she looked when she smiled. And then I cried, reading sweet comments on yesterday’s post, or pouring in via text and email.
It’s been almost one full day since she passed. Almost.
And the feelings we’ve felt so far are pretty indescribable. The whole situation seems surreal. There is no textbook on how to grieve, no roadmap for loss. And that’s become pretty apparent to us. Before she passed, we spent weeks imagining what we would feel like afterwards. What would life be like without her? What would we be like? Would we ever be okay, or would we be forever bitter? Would we go back to “life before Olivia”, or would we change directions, for good?
Luke and I are okay.
Our grief will last a lifetime, I’m sure, but we’re okay. And we want you – our family, our friends – to know that.
We probably won’t write here for too long, but there are certainly a few more stories we want to share. In the next coming days, or coming weeks, we’ll share more information on Olivia’s condition, what we learned about her this past week. We’ll share pictures from her visits with family, and stories from her favorite nurses, and I have to assume we’ll share our thoughts on grief too.