For six months, nothing has been alright. It has been six months of going through the motions of life, because we must. For six months we've pretended that everything is okay, that we are fine, but we're not. We are not fine, and it is not okay that our little girl drowned. It has been six months of reliving horror, tragedy and trauma. Six months of mourning and weeping. Six months of empty, aching arms and hearts to match. In the past six months we have heard every platitude under the sun. I've decided that platitudes are for the speaker, not the recipient. We've longed six months, for one more kiss, one more hug, one more glimpse, with no relief. We have seen six months worth of children her age and felt the ensuing pang of sorrow. For six months I've seriously questioned if perhaps I have one foot on the other side of sanity. We have endured six months of being jerked relentlessly between sadness, anger, and desperation. Six months of wishing to turn back the hands of time. Six months of regret for those last few moments. Six months of beating ourselves up for our own fatal mistakes. Six months of endless tears and heartache. Six months of unspeakable sorrow and pain. Six months of inadequate words of expression. Six months of trying and failing to understand. Six months of not caring. Six months of exhaustion. Six months of wondering if I can do another day. Six months of clinging desperately to each other and to our Lord. Six months of basic survival. Six months of strength that can only come from the one whom we serve. Six months.
Six months without Jalayne.
The Lord God is my strength
and he will make my feet like hind's feet
and make me to walk upon high places