I'd do it all over again.

I wish I had something inspirational or admirable to say. I would love to be able to say that I've become a better person, or that I've grown so much since December 7th when Bella returned to heaven, but I can't.

There are people that can gracefully come out of a situation like this. They can see things that I'm starting to think I can't or don't want to see. I don't think I want to see a light at the end of the tunnel, but I know it's there. I don't want to think of the future, but I know it's coming. I don't want to make plans, but I know they must be made. I'd love for the world to stop spinning, but it won't. The sun will continue to rise, despite the fact that I'd prefer it didn't. Life will go on, although, I wish it wouldn't.

I think I've always been a fairly optimistic person. I am usually the first to look at the glass as half full, rather than half empty. I'm the person that gives a bum money along with a smile, because I'd want to be treated with respect if I were ever in that situation. I'm no Mother Teresa, but I would classify myself as generally a good person. I used to believe that bad things happen to bad people. I thought that if you'd commit a good deed, you'd be saved somehow, from bad things. That is probably one of my biggest mistakes. Bad things happen to everyone, and good things do too.

Bella is honestly the best thing that ever happened to me. I can't explain the happiness that she brought into my life. It's amazing, almost unbelieveable, how such a tiny little person can make your entire world feel complete. Given the choice to go back and do this all over again, I would, in a heartbeat. I'd take all the good, and even the bad. Yes, even the bad.

I'm not a strong person, I'm not an admirable one, and I'm most definitely not inspirational. I've been forced to go on this journey that no one would willingly go on. Some have said, "I don't know how you do it. I could never survive." But the reality is, that you probably would survive. You wouldn't be proud of yourself, but you'd survive nontheless. And I'm not even sure that I'd call it surviving because it doesn't feel like it.

These past few days we've been "blessed" with good weather. It's been very hot in the bay area. Days like these remind me of Bella. We had our fair share of "good weather" days together. Everytime I see a baby with chunky little feet, I'm reminded of her. It seems like parents have all gotten together and decided to dress their little girls in completely pink outfits, just like I used to dress her. I saw a Dad rocking his little girl to sleep, and it reminded me of Bella and her Dad. Days like these are harder than usual, but I'm grateful to have the memories. 

I love you.
 I am who I am because of you.
 You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I've ever had ♥

Miss..

Yesterday, I drove and drove for hours. I didn't have anywhere to go, but I drove. I watched the sunset and the waves that seemed to try to reach up to the sky. I drove without thinking, and I had hoped that I'd end up somewhere interesting, but I didn't.
I was trying to escape, but it didn't work and I'm not surprised. I thought that maybe, if I drove far enough, maybe I'd find somewhere that could make me forget. I mean Highway 1 has to lead somewhere, right? Too bad, that somewhere, isn't where Bella is. Which is the only reason that I turned back and headed home.

I learned how to drive at a cemetery. I was horrible at braking and my dad didn't trust me not to hit anything. So one day we drove to the cemetery and my driving lessons began. He would tell me to pretend that every turn was a stop sign and he'd tell me to look both ways before crossing an "intersection." His reasoning was that I couldn't kill anyone there. I was never afraid of being there, but I learned very quickly how to brake so that I wouldn't have to go back. I never would have gone there alone.
Now, I can spend hours at the cemetery, alone. I think it's comforting to know that Bella and I are only separated by a wall. It sounds crazy, I know. I can sit there for hours and read or look at her pictures. Even if I can't stay for long, I like to stop by daily just to tell her that I love her. I know that I can tell her I love her anywhere, anytime, but I find it comforting for now. I like to keep her spot clean, and her flowers fresh. I like to decorate her area, and it's nice to include her godparents in the creativity. It feels like something I can still do for her.

They say time heals everything. Whoever said that either lied, or hasn't buried their child. Time. It's become my worst enemy. When we hit six months last week, I felt worse than I'd felt this entire time. It was like it had just happened a few days ago, and like it had happened ages ago, all at the same time. I can't explain it. There isn't a single word in Webster's dictionary that could describe it. I'm not surprised, because it's an unthinkable feeling. It's a feeling that no one should ever have to feel.
Miss: to discover or regret the loss or absence of.
They need a new word for miss because I miss you is not even the beginning of it. Not even close.

I never believed that love at first sight was possible.
Until I met you.
Now, I believe, because I've experienced it.
I love you.