How do I even begin?

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I've written about 17 posts (in my head in the middle of the night as I stare at the ceiling), but all my thoughts seems too raw or too trite.  I have so much I want to say - but I don't even know where to begin. This is my weak attempt at a beginning.

I cannot believe this is my life.  I cannot believe it's been two weeks since my husband died. (I cannot believe I just typed that sentence!)  It's the first time in nine years that I have gone more than a day without speaking to him.  Surreal is the only word I can come up with that describes my state of being and it seems so inadequate. 

I began this blog almost three years ago to document the 'ordinary and extraordinary moments of our lives.' I have, with few exceptions, blogged primarily for myself and my little family. The bonus was that people we knew (and some I met through the blogospher) could keep up with us.  I've used this blog to share pictures, stories, antecdotes, philosophies, ideas, recipes, videos, and well, just life.

Life has now changed.  I have such a need to be real and to share this experience of loss and tragedy in our lives and how it relates to my spiritual journey and my child.  I also have a need to blog about the regular, vanilla events that become woven into the fabric of our lives.  I want to continue to gush about our beautiful daughter and share all the joys and challenges of parenting her.  I want to share my pain and my questions and my heart.  I want to post crockpot recipes and craft ideas.  Does that all belong in the same place?  Who knows.  It will belong in this place. I have no idea what direction this blog will take...but I need to be authentic and continue to blog primarily for myself and my little family.

I know people are wanting to know how we are.  I'll begin be saying that we are surviving. We are functioning with relative normalcy (which is astounding to me) and at the same time we are just dipping our toes in this vast ocean called grief.  I'm fairly certain we're still numb - which is a little disconcerting and a little bit of a relief at the same time. As time passes and reality sets in -- I'm sure the intensity of our grief will increase.  I try not to think of that too often because I'm acutely aware that I am only able to handle what today brings:  "our daily bread."

Someone asked if there are good days and bad days.  For me, the answer is "no." Not now, anyway.  Everyday there is joy and laughter (thank you God for the radiant light of Gianna!). Every day there is intense sadness.  Every day there is peace.  Every day there is discontent and restlessness.  Every day there is hope. Every day there are fears. Every day there are unexpected meltdowns (from both of us.) As you can tell, my days are full --- and empty at the same time.  What a bizarre place to be.  I will tell you this:  we are riding on the wings of prayer and love and amazing support.  Our lives are forever changed...but they are not over.

Please be patient with me.  Please be understanding and accepting of my unique place in life.  Please remind me to do the same. Please cover us in prayer. Please.