Learning to Live with Hope

  This morning I woke up and got ready for my day as always.  Shower, get dressed, wake up kids, eat breakfast, out the door...  So what, you ask?  Why does this matter and why is she writing about it?  I suppose I am feeling the effects of Survivors Guilt.  I don't feel right getting up and going about my day as usual.  I don't know what else I would be doing but shouldn't I be doing something different?      As I said in my last post, Amy and I weren't on a talk-every-single-day routine, so no, I'm not missing that.  I am, however, struggling to do the everyday things that just plain don't matter right now.  Last night I organized my closet and put away laundry.  In the end does that stuff matter?  NO!  Spending time with my kids, yes, that absolutely matters.  I did do my best to not be distracted when we were together last night and tried my best not to nit pick at the stupid things.  Let them be...

If you are a part of my life, in-person or via social media, you know that I lost someone that was truly precious to me last week.  Amy Louise Davenport was not only my cousin, she was my soul twin.  You can find a thousand quotes out there talking about how your cousins can be your best friends in life, but those quotes don’t apply.  It wasn’t just a we-talked-all-the-time friendship, it wasn’t a we-saw-each-other-for-every-holiday relationship.  We didn’t do either, to be very honest.  There was an invisible bond that only we understood.  If you ever saw us together you probably caught a glimpse of it. So why am I just now “learning to live with hope”?  Because, it’s what Amy did.  That is who she was.  She was someone that had endured pain, heartache, and hurt beyond anything the average person can begin to understand.  As a teenager she lost her best friend, her brother Jeremy.  Those two also had a bond beyond their si...