Birthdays....Tash loved her birthday.  She could never just celebrate one day - it had to be about a week.  I had never had the heart to tell her "no."  I sometimes wonder if things would be different now if I had set more limits then.  But, how could I?  For all she went through, she deserved that and more.

My idea here was to upload pictures from different years - but, I cannot bring myself to go through pictures yet.  It just hurts too bad.  Tash loved to go through old pictures and could sit for hours - it wouldn't take long before I would get caught up in it and be on the floor "wasting time" going through stacks of pictures with her.  I have so many regrets , but, that "waste of time" is never one of them. 

But, I do have guilt....so much guilt...

Everyone says I was a great mom - but, what do they REALLY know???

Guilt is a heavy bitch - a monkey always on my back - and, I am not really sure that will ever change.

Does it matter if it's self-inflicted or if it is real?  Does that change ho you feel?  I have heard it said that one's perception is his truth.  Never has this been more true than now - as I fight the heaviest, most relentless beast there is - GUILT.  No one else has to judge us after the death of our child - we will do it all - I could have done more - I should have done more - why didn't I see?  This list could go on for pages - it is a roller coaster ride that dumps us bereaved parents into the depths of despair - farther and farther until not even a microscopic speck of light is left.  It is guilt, more than any other feeling, that squeezes our hearts at night and places that weight on our chest, so heavy and so dense that it is difficult to even take half a breath.

There were so many things I could have done differently - and, no matter what anyone says, I know it is true - and, it is a FACT that she would be here if I had done things differently.  My counselor says that is a normal feeling and most grieving people go through it - but, for me, it is true.  I decided to make 2011 a different kind of year - to do more for me - to force Tash to become more independent - she was 27 - time to grow up, I thought.  I put some space between - space that had never been there.  I wanted her to be independent - I mean, I wanted her to need me and want me - but, to the exclusion of being able to do for herself.  I didn't want to enable her - we had always been so enmeshed - it was time to have a healthier relationship.  But, it was the wrong time.