It's not the same.

I am sorry for the depressing posts lately, I just have so much running through my head, and this is how I sort it out. Feel free to quit reading, it's really okay. It's just for me anyway, I don't keep a journal, so this is it. I know it will get better. I really do. It's just all so fresh right now. I just feel like I need to write it all and remember everything. I am afraid to let go, I am afraid that if I let go and start to move on with my life I will forget. This morning Kinley came into my room, crawled into bed with me, and started to cry. I calmed her down and asked what was wrong. She told me she was sad and missed grandma. Then she looked at me with real concern in her face, "Mom," she said, "who's going to bring me flowers after my next dance recital? Grandma always brought me flowers." My heart broke a little more, "I will honey, I'll bring you flowers." She just sighed, "Oh Mom, it's not the same when you do it." She's right. It's not. I am mom, I dish out praise and discipline all day long, sometimes in the same sentence. Grandma was different. Grandma did the special things, she cared about and remember every little detail, and she always made you feel like you were wonderful. She made everyone happy. I know exactly what McKinley meant. It's just not the same. It will get better, and we will be okay, but it won't be the same.