In my head, I have started this post a million times.  Sometimes it has been a jumble of disjointed thoughts and emotions.  Other times the words have been so easy and clear.  Mostly, it has felt hard and heavy and I have been deeply avoiding this space and these words, for fear that writing them down will make this all too real.

On Sunday December 4th, our dear sweet Sharon passed away.  Just writing that down leaves me feeling gutted.  My father-in-law has lost his partner of 10 years. Kyla and KJ have lost their mother.  Mason, Javaiah and baby JJ have lost their grandmother.  Many have lost a co-worker, friend or family member who was undeniably kind, loving and a reliable source of positivity in this world.

Sepsis is a word I had never heard before but will haunt me for the rest of my life.  How can someone so young, energetic and vibrant be gone so quickly?  It feels soul-crushingly unfair.  I have, and will continue, to replay and rethink the past two weeks (and those three days in the hospital, specifically, in my head), but I won’t do so here.  I will, however, speak of the silver lining.

The family, friends and co-workers who came together.  Who stood outside her room in the ICU, who took over the family waiting room and camped out round the clock, who were generous with hugs, brought food, coffee or comforting words.  Who were unrelentingly supportive.  As we all stood in the hallway on that Friday night, the hospital chaplain commented on how many of us were there, to which, Joey’s aunt said, “can you tell she was loved?”  That she was.

The days following were a blur of tears, puzzle pieces — literal puzzle pieces, that is, because we’ve had one going at Steve’s house ever since — family and friends stopping in to visit or bring us food.  I’d find myself surrounded by people and laughter and love and feel so so happy only to remember the cause and feel like I’d been punched in the stomach.

Yesterday was Sharon’s birthday and she would have been 53.  Far too young to be gone from this world.  I don’t know what I’m doing right now.  I don’t know how to make all these hearts stop hurting and I don’t know how to heal my own, but I know we are all the better for having known Sharon and that she will be incredibly missed.