The 7 1/2 months since Alice's death have been the longest months of my life. It feels like I've been living in a fog of grief for as long as I can remember. At the same time, the 20 months of L's life have gone by so quickly. She's grown so tall, her babbling is increasingly varied, and she's already looking like a little school girl.
Thing is, 7 1/2 months of L's life overlap with Alice's death, yielding my unrelenting confusion.
To be with Alice is to be in the past. As I remember her, and think about her, I'm necessarily inside myself, mostly disconnected from my environment.
To be with L is to be in the present. I look at her, connect with her, talk to her, and react to whatever she's doing and feeling in the moment. Well, on a good day at least.
How can I be with Alice and L both at the same time? I can't anymore. So I'm plainly confounded. I have to take turns with each of them, and this takes its toll on L I'm sure.
Of course I should be more present with L, she needs me. Well, she needs Alice, too.
I need to be both of us for her now.
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