The Nightmare Never Ends

Every time I wake up, Lizzy is still dead. Every time I wake up, I cannot return to what my life was like when she was still alive. No dream or nightmare that I have had since she died is worse than the nightmare that I wake up to every day.

The world is filled with toddlers. Living toddlers. Living toddlers at mass, at restaurants, at doctor’s appointments, on sidewalks. Living toddlers everywhere I go.

I wake up and see Lizzy’s backpack, her nightgown, her stroller, her yellow boots.

I look to my left and see Lizzy’s clothes, which I refuse to put away. They are still in her drawers. But each piece of clothing holds memories, so when I glance that way, it’s like being sliced by so many tiny incisions.

I left the letters that I made that spell Lizzy’s name hanging on the wall. They are decorated with Peter Rabbit decals and scrapbooking materials, since she had a Beatrix Potter-themed nursery.

Next to the letters is the frame that holds Lizzy’s handprint and footprint at 10 months, with pictures of her giggling in a pumpkin patch, giggling in the sunlight.

I threw away the bag of dried mangoes because every time I looked at it, I heard her asking for some “ang-yo?”

I threw away the sweater, purse, and pants I wore day after day in the hospital.

I threw away the white maternity maxi dress I wore to her funeral and burial.

I started to throw away Lizzy’s toothbrush. Then I changed my mind and had my sister sterilize it for four days in rubbing alcohol so that I could keep it.

Holding a newborn is so different from holding a toddler. Lizzy’s weight and strength made my arms feel glowingly full. Cecilia is terrifyingly fragile. Lizzy fit perfectly on my left hip. Cecilia barely curls around my breasts.

Lizzy is everywhere and in everything. I see her constantly: living, dying, and dead.

I cannot process this. I cannot accept it. What I wake to makes me not want to wake up ever again.

This world is a continuum of misery. I am the type of broken that doesn’t get fixed.

On days like today, it’s hard to resist wishing I had died with Lizzy.