Piper started her first full day of preschool this morning. By full day, I really mean 2.75 hours. It’s something. It’s a milestone that I have been dreading. Not dreading because she is my youngest, my last to leave the house, but because she is doing it without Tuesday. We laid in her bed and I wept and she sobbed.
I don’t want Tuesday in my heart, I want her in my school. I want Tuesday to come back
I want Tuesday to come back
I feel so fucking inept. All I can say is, I do too. Because I do. It doesn’t matter how totally impossible and irrational it is, I want her back.
Piper is a great kid. A funny, happy, whirlwind of loveliness. Everywhere we go, people ask her where she got her curls, and she always replies, from Tuesday. I’m sure they wonder what the hell that means. She will always be our beautiful, painful reminder and for that I am eternally grateful. And still eternally heartbroken.
But, she is also struggling right now. She cries for her twin daily.
I miss Tuesday.
We draw her a picture and she puts it in a drawer. Sometimes Tuesday thanks her with a rainbow. More often than not, a double.
There is very little useful information on twin loss in childhood, and what there is is subjective and circumspect, because if I’ve learned nothing from this tragic world of child loss, it’s that we all do it and feel it different. Someone else’s take on the matter is just that, their take. I’m finding that I am her expert. It’s a daunting task. The bondshe shares with Spence and Axel runs deep and they are her ultimate protectors.
And they are having their own issues, too, that I’m weeding through. Spencer is burdened with this sense of responsibility to care for all of us and make sure we are safe. He has trouble sleeping and we can’t talk him out of it. He doesn’t want to talk about it all. He’s an amazing empathetic and sensitive soul.
Axel, after almost 6 months of the silent treatment for every and all adult, is starting to blossom. He has our sense of humor and and cracks us up when we least expect it. I worry he will always feel the need to be the one that makes us laugh.
We are a psychologists wet dream, the 5 of us.
The 5 of us.
I still hate that.
It should be the 6 of us
Whitt, party of 6.
But we are healing. Somehow we are better than we were a year ago. And in other ways we are worse. But maybe next year we will be a little better than last.
More sweet than bitter.
