Six months ago we were planning a funeral. How do I even describe the past six months?

We knew that life would be completely different once Carmen went to Heaven. But, knowing that and living it are two entirely different things.

We had three years to “prepare” for Carmen dying. And we did do a large portion of our grieving when Carmen was diagnosed with Tay Sachs at one year old. That was when all of our dreams for our little Guatemalan girl came crashing down. But, no amount of preparing really prepares you for loss. We still have to go through the grieving process.

In many ways, not having to take care of a medically fragile, terminally ill child is relieving. A huge burden was lifted off our shoulders. Carmen is in a much better place now and the reality is that we are too.

In so many ways we are re-learning how to live like the rest of you. It still feels strange to be able to go to the mall or the grocery store. I leave the house with my purse and a tiny diaper bag. I don’t need oxygen tanks and suction machines.

A few months after Carmen died, I went to my doctor and asked for an anti-depressant. I described how I was feeling: tired, unmotivated, overwhelmed. She said, “What you are feeling is completely normal considering what you have been through. I would be more worried about you if you weren’t feeling some of this.” I am happy to say that my little daily pill has given me the boost I needed. I feel like I am not only getting through each day but I am starting to enjoy each day a little more.

I think about Carmen often. Yesterday I was thinking about the possibility of a big move for us this summer and wondering how Lauren will feel about a new school. And it hit me that Carmen would be going to kindergarten this fall. Lauren and Carmen would be riding the bus to the new school together.

I wish so very much that Lauren had her sister. More than anything else, I grieve the loss of what could have been for Lauren and Carmen.

I haven’t finished writing about Carmen’s last few days. I started writing but nothing sounded right. I couldn’t describe the depth of emotion involved in watching someone leave this world. Perhaps I’ll start again. I think I’ll feel better, like the chapter is closed, once the words are written down.

I’m not sure I like the saying, “Time heals all wounds” but time does have a way of moving things along.

The one thing that always comforts me is to think that as hard as these past six months have been for us, they have been absolutely, positively amazing for Carmen!

Life is completely, totally different since Carmen died in both huge ways and small ways. Every single day we are reminded of the past four years.

1. When Dave takes out the trash, he remarks on how little trash we have. The one bag (or occasionally two) fits in the trash can. When Carmen was alive, we had three bags in the outside trash can plus several next to the can full of diapers, wipes, gloves, chux, medicine bottles, etc. Our trash is picked up twice per week. We had that many bags TWICE per week!

2. We haven’t seen the UPS or Fed Ex man in weeks. We used to see both of them several times per week, delivering supplies and medicine. In fact, we have run out of boxes. RUN OUT OF BOXES!!! When Carmen was alive, we broke down and recycled boxes every week and always had a stash waiting to be broken down. Now, when we need to mail a package, we can’t even find one box laying around.

3. Last week Hope and I went to pay the rent and I decided to stop at the mall. I haven’t stopped at the mall in years. We strolled around and found a pair of fancy purple slippers for Lauren and a Nike T-shirt for Dave. (The T-shirt was on clearance for $5. I love a great deal!) Running a quick errand or leisurely shopping were not things I did as Carmen got heavier and required more equipment and medical intervention.

4. We have days when no one comes over. For years we had therapists, nurses, and volunteers in and out of our home every single day. We miss some of them. (I will exercise restraint and not elaborate on the ones we don’t miss!)

5. We have privacy. We can run down the hall to grab a towel out the linen closet…naked! We can argue without being overheard. We can sleep with our doors open. We can turn down the heat at night without the nurses being too cold. We can crank up the AC without the nurses being too cold.

6. I feel a little anxious when someone asks how many kids I have. I always say three but sometimes I hope they don’t ask any more questions. I will always say three. Lauren says she has two sisters and one is in Heaven. (I didn’t say “we” on this one because I’m not sure how Dave feels about the kid questions.)

7. We haven’t seen the NY Grandparents in almost three months!!! This is a record. When Carmen was alive, one or both of them drove 6 hours to help us at least once per month. We miss you guys!

8. We don’t have an explicit purpose like we did when Carmen was alive.

9. We don’t have a specific schedule for every single day: medicines, vest treatment, diaper change, medicines, feeding, diaper change, medicines, vest treatment, nebulizer treatment, etc.

10. We don’t have Carmen. We know where she is and we know we will see her again but she is not here.

I’ll be honest and say that life is much easier now. Much easier. And I wouldn’t bring Carmen back. I wouldn’t ask her to leave the magnificence of Heaven and her perfect body. But, I miss her little sighs and those ridiculously long black eyelashes. I miss having three girls.

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Thanks so much for all of your birthday wishes! I had a wonderful birthday. Thirty-five is just a number and I can think I’m still 20 if I want to!