I do not like nighttime.

I have managed to keep myself busy during the day. I have also managed to keep my thoughts and feelings at bay.

Over the past three weeks I have cut down 6 trees and trimmed seven others. I’ve pulled every weed I could find out of my gardens. Thankfully we have had lots of rain so I cut the grass, often.

I’ve spent very little time inside my house because it just reminds me of the plans I had for Harlowe. Teaching her how to cook and bake, wrapping Christmas presents with her, reading books to her, doing her hair, and just being silly.

So outside of the house has been a safe place for me, kind of a respite from feelings.

But then, night comes.

I do not like the night.

I do not like bedtime.

For me, bedtime used to be something I looked forward to each day. A time to de-stress, a time for meditation. A time to calm my senses down, and prepare to be restored by a good night’s sleep. Not to mention the six perfectly situated pillows waiting to usher me in to a night of rest and relaxation.

But now, well, now when I go to bed I lay there alone with my thoughts and feelings. Praying that undisturbed sleep will come. But every time I close my eyes all I see is Harlowe’s precious face. She was truly a perfect mix of my son and daughter-in-law.

My heart breaks again, every night.

I cry.

I cry until I fall asleep.

Sleep does not come easy.

Sleep does not come fast.

So, I just cry.

I don’t like nighttime…