Screaming Silence

There are times when her absence is much louder than others.  Like at night, every night, with no distractions and no company cuz Jason and Khaily sleep, I'm more aware of it.  During the day there are distractions, focal points, things to keep my mind busy, but even then it's always there.  It's seeing the scribble art on the wall near my desk at work, it's seeing her pictures and knowing that they are just pictures, that the sparkle in those eyes is gone and the life in those hands has been drained.  I've been to the hospital twice this week for pretty bad gall attacks, and being in that ER is the worst.  At the ER, just like at home, there are footprints that no one can see, chairs in the hallway that no one else can see, there's crying and screaming that no one else can hear.  There's a monitor in room 7 that once flatlined...and no one knows it but me.  Sitting in that hospital room, or in that hospital at all, is awful.  Because in the silence of room 12, or room 13 as it was tonight, I can still hear myself begging the doctors not to let her die.  I can hear myself sobbing in the family room across the hall, I can hear the doctors asking if they needed to rotate compressions...it's awful.  It's awful that this ever even happened.  It shouldn't have.  It could have been prevented.  From a religious stand point, God knows the number of our days, and appearantly her number was up and from that view it would have happened regardless, but from a maternal standpoint...the point of view that no one else understands, my baby should still be here.  She should be sleeping in the other room right now.  We should all be in our rooms, not living on the couches to get away from what once was normal.  She should be waking up right about now, wanting more milk or a snuggle.  But she's not here.  She's gone.  And the silence is so loud I feel as though I may go deaf.

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