The rest of life.

The duo was temporarily pushed aside.

We separated slightly.

She was grieving. 

She had lost her child.

I had two healthy children to love.

 

Our lives together altered.

Somewhere deep down inside, I felt some relief and euphoria.

All the worries, the stress, as well as the advocating were over. 

 

The emergencies that shot me out of my life and into hers in a millisecond were gone.

Gone...

Her voice, her twinkly blue eyes, her devilish grin, her soft skin...

She was gone.

Oh, I missed that sweet child.

 

While she mourned, I was able to heal, wrapped in the love and health of my two children.

While I mourned, she was without child.

 

We were separated further.

 

I tried not to have any expectations. 

I wanted her to be able to mourn as it came at her. 

 

I silently monitored her emotional health.

I watched for any signs that indicated she was not coping. 

Allowing her this space kept us apart. 

It was a necessary separation.

 

The following Christmas was spent apart.

We had never been apart at Christmas. 

It was different. 

It was new. 

It wasn’t what duos do. 

 

Summer holidays apart.

Summer holidays together.

Both were strange. 

It was different. 

It was new.

 

Incredibly, people saw me as stronger again.

She was mistaken for weak.

Even though, she was surviving without her daughter.

People judged.

People were unwilling to accept her strength.  

 

She felt the external world’s expectations of her.

She knew they thought she would fail.

She was determined to show them the truth.

 

She started taking college courses at night school. 

 

College courses.

 

She let her employer know she wished to advance. 

 

Advance.

 

She applied for positions internally.

 

New positions. 

 

She volunteered at her workplace. 

 

Volunteered. 

 

 

I was so proud of her.  

So proud.