Pony rides are the best medicine

Yesterday we visited a local farm. P got to pet a furry brown goat, feed a baby lamb, pet fluffy bunnies and have a pony ride. Her smile was eight miles wide the whole time. It beamed its happiness into my heart. I’m getting so so tired of being sad. I needed a little smile beam from my baby.



If my brother hadn’t gone and done this insane thing I know I would have been bitching and moaning about the whole trip to my parent’s house and it makes me feel so petty and guilty about it now. I would gladly take the four hour car trip and listening to my dad and brother arguing over nothing to this bizzaro-world alternative. Let this be a lesson to you internets. Hindsight is 20/20 and the perspective from this end is a real kick in the ass.



I’ve been receiving emails and phone calls from many of my brother’s old friends from grade school through to High School. Without fail they’ve all told me that they were in regular (sometimes daily) contact with him. None of them had any inkling that he was going to do this. Without fail they’ve all told me how much they loved him and what a special person he was. And without fail they’ve told me that if they had known they would dropped everything to be by his side in the deep dark hole he’d fallen into. They would have carried him out on their backs.



This is such an unbelievable waste.
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