I've been meaning to write for days, but every time I open a post, I just stare blankly. Do I write about innocuous knitting projects (my first sock, a new knit hat for Richard, etc.) or do I write a more in-depth, but possibly maudlin post about grief, hope and expectations? I don't know. I've never claimed to be a cohesive blogger -- this blog has always been more a collections of happenings in my life rather than a strict "knit blog." But I've been feeling even more scattered than ever lately, and I guess the not writing is reflective of that.
Next week, we head up to Tahoe to scatter Eliza's ashes. We've been planning this for about the last month and a half, and yet, until last night, Rich & I hadn't sat down to think out what we wanted to say. I guess it was our own form of avoidance, because this makes it final. Last night, I cried more than I have in a really long time. Just going over a variety of specific, happy memories (when we found out we were pregnant, the first ultrasound, the first time I felt her move) brought up a swell of emotion that I hadn't realized was still buried inside. But it's important to remember -- they are the best memories we have of our time with her. And after next weekend, she'll be in Lake Tahoe, a special place for our family, and a place where we can visit her every year and remember how wonderful she was.
If I don't post as frequently as I should, please bear with me. Everything is a bit topsy-turvy right now, but I know that it's going to get better.