Today marks 20 months since Natalie died. It is incomprehensible to me. I had a rough day. Didn't sleep well and woke up with a headache. On my way to Ardente Plumbing Supply to pick up our new toilet, I passed the State Medical Examiners Office on Orms St. I was suddenly filled with memories of March 18, how we waited for hours for the M.E. to come to our house. Natalie lying on the couch, dead. Finally, he came and explained what they would do and then he carried my little baby out of our house in a child-sized body bag. I remember how lovingly he carried her. Such memories haunt me. As I drove past the building, I burst into tears and then quickly pulled myself together for my own safety since I was still driving. It's amazing how the intensity comes and goes. I have come to understand the power of thought more and more.
Roslyn wasn't wearing her coat when I picked her up from school, and refused to put it on despite my urging and her teacher's. (It was quite chilly today.) Stubborn, stubborn girl. After a few minutes of swinging on the monkey bars, she came running over asking for her coat. I have to remind myself that she needs to find her own way, and this is just one more example of her asserting her independence and control over her life. Still, on a day like today when I'm tired and sad, it tests my patience. Fortunately, I have learned to take a deep breath and bite my tongue when the urge to yell comes. I think I am doing a pretty good job with that.
This picture was taken on October 18, 2006; Roslyn and Natalie were coloring together. Natalie made some beautiful scribbles that day, which I cherish.