Spotify nearly killed me today. I was going about my day, minding my own business, and it just barged in with a song that cut my heart in half. It was The Band Perry’s, “If I Die Young.”

Lord make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother
She’ll know I’m safe with you when
She stands under my colours, oh and
Life ain’t always what you think it oughta be, no
Ain’t even grey, but she buries her baby
The sharp knife of a short life …

I had heard this song before. But, not since I’ve lost my girl.

It made me sad. But, it mostly made me angry.

It reminded me of the fact that all the dreams she’d had for her life were stolen from her. And, thus, stolen from me.

I knew those dreams. They’re dreams that all little girls have and talk about as they grow up.

She’ll never marry the man of her dreams like she hoped. Never wear the white dress. Never walk down that aisle covered in rose petals. Never know that kind of love.

She’ll never have children. Never know what it’s like to be a mommy. Never change their diapers, rock them to sleep, or sing them lullabies. Never teach them how to kick a soccer ball or tie their shoes. Never watch them grow. Never know that kind of love.

I know what you may think: “But, she’s in such a better place. She’s totally happy and fulfilled where she is.”

Yes. I know that.

But, it doesn’t change the fact that her life here was cut short and her dreams were still stolen. Her dreams were my dreams, which makes it difficult for this mom to dream at all anymore. So, I just don’t at the moment. And, that’s okay. Maybe one day I’ll dream again.

Nowadays, any little thing can set off my grief. A song. Something someone says. An old photo. A Facebook memory. Simply driving around in my car. Anything. And, I don’t know when it will hit.

Today, it was Spotify and a bottle of her perfume with just the tiniest amount left. I’ll probably never use it and it will just sit on my vanity so I can smell it from time to time, because it smells like her.

The difference in my grief now is that I can shut it down just as quickly as it comes. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not, but that’s how I have to deal with it. There was a time, closer to her death, when I pressed into the grief. I let the waves crash over me, almost drowning, and then I’d come up for air after a while. That’s not how it is anymore. The waves still come but I control them more than they control me.

Right now, I’m just trying to learn how to feel like a regular person again. But, honestly, I don’t think that will ever happen. I’m okay with that and simply hope my people are okay with that. Because I’m just different now. Not worse. Not better. Just different.

So, I’ll be attempting to write again. Not only about grief, despite the fact that it kind of consumes a lot of my thoughts, but about regular stuff again. But, I only have energy to write about real stuff, stuff that’s meaningful to me. So, stay tuned …