Tonight we celebrated 63 years since Israeli Independence and I, at least in part, celebrated the first night of mine.

Tonight was the first night I realized that that while I have 2 beautiful little girls, it is the one who is here and spunky and precocious and full of life that needs my attention.  As much as I miss my Gabbi, and there are times and I am sure there will continue to be times where the pain of missing her will be unbearable, the living have to come before the dead.

Tonight for the first time, for most of the night I was able to put my grief aside to make sure that my Channah had the best night she could have.  We read tehillim, we sang, we even danced- and I ENJOYED it and I DON'T FEEL GUILTY.  We watched the concert and we snuggled and I watched her play with her friends and I ENJOYED watching her play with her friends.  Would I have enjoyed it more with my Gabriella?  I am 100% certain that I would have.  But that is not how things played out.

In taking my first step in starting to find my independence from my grief I have taken then the first step away from constant guilt and sadness and towards the light at the end of my tunnel.  I have admitted to myself that although I wish things had worked out differently they didn't, and that no matter how much I hate that fact, and no matter how much I hate the final outcome, things are the way that they are.  I have a sweet little light in my life that I can't let my grief extinguish.

Last night, Remembrance Day, was for my Gabbriella Galit.  Today, Independence Day is for me.  All the rest of my tomorrows are for Channah.

This blog is a spot for me to be honest.  I am not going to lie here and say that my Gabbi never entered my mind tonight.  As I saw strollers with new babies in them I felt sad, but kept repeating to myself "tonight is for Channah.  Tonight is for Channah".   At one point I told myself I was going to count backwards from 10 to 1 and when I got to 1 I would again be relaxed and happy.  Lord only knows why but it seems to have worked.
The only time I was overcome with melancholy was when the fireworks started and as I held Channah and listened to her squeal with delight, and heard a baby cry in terror, I wondered what Gabbi would have done, and if, wherever she is now, she could see them.

I hope she could because they really were beautiful, but if she couldn't I am sure she is looking at something much more spectacular.

So in conclusion.  Am I "cured"?  No way in hell.  Have I taken the first teeny tiny itsy bitsy step towards reclaiming my independence from this seemingly unending nightmare?  I think I just might have.