Last night I dreamt I brought a little girl to a carnival on the Forth of July. Her blue dress spun out as she twirled in circles picking wild flowers, her hair the same color as mine blowing in the breeze. I couldn't see her face, but I knew she was my daughter. I knew because I called her Katie. We laughed and played and I watched her watching the fireworks. She called me Mommy.
Its been so long now and yet that wound remains a festering gangrenous sore around my broken heart. Its the fourth of July, and I'm supposed to be happy. I'm supposed to be with friends watching the fireworks and being proud of my husband, and my country. But I'm not. I'm alone sitting on the couch in my empty house watching a movie and drying the tears I cried over the family I should have had. Hub's on duty, so there were no cook outs or fireworks for me, in fact I don't think we have ever had a Fourth of July that we spent together, so that's nothing new.
I just wish the pain would dull for me like it seems to do for everyone else I know. It's been four years and sometimes I feel still feel like someone just ripped out my heart. I think maybe, this is because I lost the one thing I wanted most, and I didn't realize it until she was gone. I feel foolish in a way for missing someone who was never actually here, but I do. I miss the idea of a family of my own and the hope I felt. I lost that innocence, and nothing will ever be the same.
I feel torchered by this because I can't have Katie in life, but I have her in my dreams. I dream about her just before every holiday, and special event. The dreams are always happy. I always wake up happy, but god forbid if I'm alone on that day. All I can think about is what it would be like if I had the life in my dreams.
I still miss her, and its so unfair.