I have participated in NaBloPoMo for the past few years. In the beginning I was well into the whole blogging thing and thought it would be a really cool way to find other blogs. Plus, it gave me an excuse to post every single day. As the years went on it started to become a kick in the pants to post more than once a month…

I had a post written in my head last night. Several things happened that lead to a night of misery for both James and I. Ethan’s name popped up several times throughout the day in the most unexpected way. The push over the edge was watching the movie Rachel Getting Married with Anne Hathaway. The movie had been sitting in it’s Netflix envelope for over a month forgotten, but this past weekend James and I were heading to the camper without the kids….

So, the basic plot of the movie is this girl, Kym, is getting out of rehab for a few days to attend her sister, Rachel’s wedding. Kym has been in and out of rehab for over a decade after her little brother died in a car accident that she caused when she was high on pain killers. Her brothers name? Ethan.

It didn’t help that I also identified with the mom and sister issues… I couldn’t stop crying. It was like my eyes are dripping faucets that could not be stopped. James knows that I am a crybaby when it comes to emotional movies. He’s also a very wise man and never looks at me and laughs as I bawl over some fictional piece of crap that we’re watching. He just hands me the tissues and goes back to the screen. What a man.

After the movie ended the ball of emotion was growing in my throat and I couldn’t stop it. When it erupts it feels like my entire body is having a major earthquake. James asked what was wrong…and I ended up pulling him into my grief cellar with me. I hated that I had made him hurt as much as I was hurting.

Ethan died nearly 6 years ago. The hurt? It’s still there. When I get down into the darkness that elephant climbs back on my chest and I feel as if I could suffocate at any moment. There is a huge part of my heart that isn’t with us any more. I don’t know if it’s buried with Ethan or just floating in the ether… but it’s not with me.

Thing is, I wouldn’t changing him dying. I know that might sound completely awful of me. If Ethan hadn’t died we would not have Abby, Lauren, Katie or Megan. Our life would have revolved around Emma and Ethan. Ethan would more than likely had some very special needs and we would not have gone the route that we did to have our other daughters.

It is not that I love Ethan less or wish he had died. It’s just the facts that are out there. His dead has taken me down a path that I would have never been on had he not died. Some of this path really sucks while some of it is lined with happiness and butterflies.

I am on kind of a sucky part of the path right now. Eyes are puffy and I would much rather stay in bed for a little while longer. Instead I get out of bed to be greeted by hugs and kisses from my girls. I think they can sense my funk even if they don’t understand.

So, here’s to blogging through the funk.