I've been quite busy lately so, unfortunately, I haven't had much time to blog. I'm nearing the end of my quarter in school which means that this is finals week and I've overscheduled myself as usual. It's good to be busy, but only to a point. I may have crossed that line.
I'm still working on finding my kids and I've had a few encouraging experiences, but I don't have much time to write so I'll save that for later. After my finals, I'll have a week's break from school so I should have time to fill you in then.
One of the tasks I've been trying to accomplish this weekend is to transfer my home movies from a Digital 8 format to DVD. I've looked for someone who does this professionally, but I gave up on that search so, with Ken's help, I've been loading the movies onto my computer and trying to burn them that way. Unfortunately, Windows XP doesn't include a DVD burner so I either need to buy some software or just buy a separate DVD burner. Either way, it's a real pain in the ass.
When I first started importing the movies onto my computer I was excited to watch them. I've only watched a few minutes here and there over the past two years and I always thought that, while it made me sad, it was nice to see my kids having fun at Christmas or birthday parties or in whatever they were doing. In the past few days, however, I've watched a couple of hours of video and it's had a much different effect on me.
Instead of making me smile or laugh remembering how beautiful and wonderful Kate and Peter were while they were here, these videos have launched me into a whole new level of sadness. When I watch them, they look and sound so real that when I realize they're gone it's almost like living through the trauma of the accident all over again. Except this time I'm not in shock. I'm all too aware of reality.
After living through the experience of losing my kids, I've learned that being in shock is truly a gift. I honestly believe it's the only way a person can go on living and breathing after that kid of experience. The more it wears off, the harder it gets.
This is one of those moments when I just don't feel like I can do this anymore. I think "How much longer do I have to be without them?!" But I don't have a choice, so I have to keep doing this. I hate that.
So for now I'm going to take some Tylenol PM (don't worry - only the recommended dose) and cry myself to sleep - which reminds me: I had another dream about Kate two nights ago. We were together doing something, I don't remember what, but it felt so real. I do remember thinking, in my dream, "Is this real or is this just a dream?" Finally I decided, "Who cares! Just enjoy it!!"
So I'm going to bed and hopefully when I wake up tomorrow I'll hurt a little less and be able to do the things I need to do and move forward in my journey. Goodnight.