There was a little irony in being awoken this morning at such a time. If I were to be a little more awake or lucid I imagine I could count down the hours it's been since Piper died.
I'm not so I won't.
The room is hot and my spouse is sound asleep. I know this by the snoring from the other side of Linley...who is on me like white on rice. She sleeps with her arms flung across my chest and her fuzzy head in my neck. Not unlike Piper did.
I am missing Piper.
Too many nights that I've been given the option to sleep through and truly, I'm no good at that. I miss hearing her little voice in the night needing me. And I miss feeling her arms and her fuzzy head. God, the ache to hold her again could kill me if I allowed myself to fully feel it.
I cant so it won't.
Today I told Patsy down at the pool that my daughter died. I teared up a little but muddled through an explanation. I told her Piper had died a week from Tuesday and she responded how she was supposed to. I think the more politically correct thing would have been to say that I "lost" Piper but I didn't. She died. I couldn't have lost Piper if I had wanted to... That girl was with me all the time.
In my arms.
Walking next to me with her pink walker.
In the backseat of my Camry, singing Adele.
Snuggled under my chin and across my chest.
I didn't lose Piper.
Dying also allows me to focus on where she is now. Were I to have lost Piper I would be spending every moment of my remaining years seeking her out. But I don't have to do that. She's gone from my arms but she's settled into better ones. And while that doesn't stop me from reaching for her at 3:35am, it keeps me from collapsing in a puddle of grief from missing her.
I miss my daughter.
3:35am is a lonely time of the night.