I don't know how well you knew this from inside my belly, Luke, but me and your Dad are kind of...jackasses. Or maybe not jackasses, but we operate with a heavy hand of sarcasm. We're funny people. And no one even believes us when we tell them how old we are. I still get carded and I'm 33 years old. I'm not sure that's a compliment, or a sign that we're just immature, but that's who we are. My favorite movie is Tommy Boy. Or Billy Madison. Maybe Old School. I don't do chick flicks. Both me and your Daddy crack terribly un-PC jokes on an hourly basis.
So you can imagine how hard it is to go through something this traumatic when we're like that.
I'm emotional, but I've never been through anything in my life that has hit me this hard. Obviously, it should hit me this hard. Losing a child is like losing a part of yourself. Part of me died with you. And I feel like I don't know how to grieve over losing you while being who I am. Going through the day with spontaneous bouts of tears is just not normal for me. I realize it's not normal for most people, but it feels so opposite to who I am. I don't want people treating me differently because of what happened.
I hate feeling guilty for smiling or laughing. I know you wouldn't want me to feel that way, but it's hard. I'm torn. Mourning you is a rocky road. And I'm going to be traveling this road for the rest of my life. That might be the part that's hardest for me to think about right now. Everyone says it gets easier--It doesn't get better, it just gets easier.
All I want is to just be me. I just wanted to be me with you.
And now I need to figure out how to do that without you.