So bad I'm reluctant to hit publish

This is crap. All of it. Tonight, after an entertaining evening of intellectual debate, theological banter and a refreshingly good cabernet, I finally decided to think about my impending trip to New York. By impending, I mean that we leave in less than 24 hours. And somehow, instead of my "packing" file, I ended up in the picture file. And, consequently, instead of planning our trip, I spent the evening bawling my way through a slideshow of Iain's first year.

Now, I'm just pissed. We had everything in front of us. We were building our life. We'd just bought our first real house (not a condo, although don't get me wrong condos are great too), Dalton was moving up the corporate ladder, and after several miscarriages, Iain had arrived, and he was perfect. Six months later it was ripped away from us by cancer.

I'm whining.
I know.

But sometimes I just feel entitled to a little bit of "Why me? Why us?"

See. I am not always strong. I simply persevere. I don't know what else to do. It doesn't seem to matter whether I feel like geting up in the morning or going to work or telling Iain to stop throwing his food on the floor. Time passes anyway. Barring drastic measures, I will still wake up tomorrow and have to face the same crappy reality that I had to face today.

Iain's first year is all that we got.

So, yes, I will make the best of it. Whatever "it" is. I will honor the cliches and make lemonade out of lemons. I will enjoy this life because frankly I don't like being miserable.

But don't think it's because I am strong or recovering so well or moving on so easily. All that crap about lemonade is cute but let's face it, on their own, lemons are pretty hard to swallow.