That's what life is now, a test of my endurance. I'm actually scared writing that in case there is more to come.
When I was 17, exactly one month before my 18th birthday, I went to school in the morning, and when I came home in the afternoon my Dad was dead. He died very suddenly at the age of 43 from a brain hemorrhage. I adored him.
Over the next few years a whole lot of shit happened,and I really thought that was how it was being a grown up.
Then I met Woody, we had a family, and I thought life was good. Just days before Florence was born,I thought how lucky we were.
Now, I'm walking in a dream.I'm loving my living children, and my husband. I'm scared for them and for myself, and I'm desperate to hold Florence in my arms.
Did it all really happen? Has the past year just been a dream?
I grew and birthed a beautiful daughter and she's gone. I can't even believe I'll ever see her again. My only hope is that when I die, as the last electrical impulses are surging through my brain,I'll think she's there in my arms.
I'm so sorry Florence, forever is forever.
