Natasha Courtney Knobel - another memorial - is it wrong or hateful to ask where all these people have been the last 10 years?  She could have used visitors when she was in the hospital and thought no one cared.  She could have used a kidney - would it have made a difference if just a tenth of you got checked?  Even if you hadn't been a match, would it have bolstered her drive to fight harder because she knew so many people cared? 

When I read back over that, it does seem wrong - to say out loud.  But, I have to let some of it out - there is so much trapped within my brain and body that I feel like I am about to explode at the seams.  However, I am so afraid that if I start letting it out, I may not be able to stop.

I thought the other day about adding in a bit of appreciation in this blog as well as ranting, crying, and pleading for understanding.  I will try it today and see where it leads - this will let me do a little time-traveling and perhaps, understand more about my life and my daughter.

I am appreciative of my husband and my relationship with him.   I met Hans - Constantinus Adrianus Carolus Maria Knobel - in 1986.  I was still married, and, though, we sat at the same table almost every day at lunch, we didn't speak more than 20 words to each other that first semester.  We went to Texas Wesleyan University together.  He was a Sig Ep - I was an Alpha Xi.  I knew he was a pledge and I knew he was from Holland - THAT'S ALL!!!  I was too wrapped up in surviving a disastrous marriage, raising my daughter, and trying to make it in college.  In the spring, we returned from break and I listened to his stories about his trip home to see his family.  But, still we said nothing more than "hello" and "bye" - until the end of March.  That is when we began to move forward and become friends - then more.  He became my baby-sitter - my more-than-a-friend friend, and began to play a part in my life that would save me from so many things - including myself.  Twenty-five years later, we have finally encountered the only thing he cannot fix.  He is still my hero - the love of my life - a wonderful father to my daughter - and, he is still trying to fix everything and continues to save my life every day.

Actually, as dumb as I thought that might be, it was good.  It allowed my mind to drift - if just for a while, to a part of my life that is still good.  I might give it a try more often.

This Saturday - it marked 24 weeks since Tash died - in just 13 days, it will be officially 6 months.  In 37 days, it will be her 28th birthday - though, she will forever be 27.  This was supposed to be her year - how can she be gone?  How can this be my life?  Do you believe in the sins of the father?  I wonder about that a lot.  I wonder if it's my fault that she had to suffer so much and, could it why she died so young?  I have not been a perfect person - but, I don't think I have ever done anything so horrible that it would cause all of Tash's suffering.  But, if it's not that, then what?  Does her suffering have a purpose?  If so, what was it?  It all seems so pointless.  I mean, I wouldn't give up or trade a minute I spent with her - but, it all seems so unfair.  She was a beautiful, bubbly little girl, with a ready smile and a contagious giggle.  Why did this disease pick her?  Why did God pick her?  Why me?  My life seems to have turned into a continuous pity party - a litany of "Why me?'s"  It is Tash that suffered and her suffering has ended.  But, is she happy?  Is there something after this life?  If I knew, for sure, that she was happy and completely healed and that there is an after-life where she could be happy and healthy, it would be so much better.  I would still be sad - I would still miss her every day - but, there would be some comfort in knowing she is okay - better than she was here.

Is it wrong to want her here with me?  I have so many regrets - and, I don't know who I am without her.  My brain goes in circles - as it comes back to the thought of "WHY?"  Natasha was a beautiful girl - my beautiful girl - and, as a person without parents - without a true family - without the opportunity to have more children, I think I deserved this one special child to be mine - to grow old with - to love - to look into her eyes as I left this world - not look into her dead eyes after she left this world.  I think of her every day - all day.  I cry everyday.  I question my way of grieving her - is it right?  Wrong?  Is there a right or wrong way to grieve? Should I keep her things out?  Put them away?  Keep them?  Get rid of them?  I don't know what to do.  I don't know how to put my life back together.  I am afraid to talk to people about all that resides in my head.  It is craziness - and I am afraid of what my counselor would say if she knew how obsessive my thoughts are- how my brain never shuts down.  IF ONLY there was a way to know what Tash would want me to do...36 days left on this journey...