It was a little surreal sitting there proofreading that darn piece of paper, the official cause of death, etc. It was hard not to break down, hard to just say thank-you, stand up and leave.
I stopped at the cemetery on the way home. Breanna's grave marker was already muddy, so I tried to dust it off as best as I could. I poked a Winnie-the-Pooh pinwheel into the dirt and choked down another sob.
Happy Birthday, BreBre.
Just found your blog this morning via Blogs for a Cause...and I thought, "That little Estuardo looks familiar." I was at the Marriott for a pick up trip the first week of January, too.
ReplyDeleteSorry to hear of your travel misery on the way home. Your whole pick up trip will be something to tell Onnolee as she grows up!
And I am most especially sad to read of the loss of your daughter. I cannot imagine the level of pain of grief you must feel. What a marvelous family you have. Looking forward to reading more about all of you.
I just saw this, been a little overwhelmed, though nothing like your life, no comparison. I can't imagine how deeply the pain cuts through you every time you think of Bre. I wish I could have been kneeling down next to you and holding your hand, given you a hug. My heart is right now.
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