Tonight I went into Kenley’s room to fold her laundry. I’ve always been much better about doing my girls’ laundry than mine or Jeff’s. Sorting, washing, folding – I dislike the entire process.

I started folding her clothes, realizing because of the weather change she has so many new ones. I was looking at labels and thinking how crazy it is that my 2 year old wears size 4T! I felt happy, grateful even, folding her stuff and putting it away so she’ll have outfits to pick for the week. She loves to pick out her own clothes now.

When I was finished with Kenley’s clothes, I stood up and instinctively walked into Blake’s room to fold hers. As soon as I got there and realized what I was doing, I just stopped. I braced myself against the wall and sobbed. Suddenly, I remembered I didn’t need to be in there to fold laundry. There’s nothing to fold.

I looked down at her laundry basket, full of tiny little clothes. There are many of them she never got to wear. Clothes Kenley wore as a baby; clothes I had hoped Blake would get to wear. I looked around at all the stuff that is hers, an entire room full and set up just for her. Her name is on the wall. Her favorite spot, the changing table by the window sits there, untouched for months.

I opened her closet doors, which I haven’t done in a very long time. I pulled out different things, felt them, remembered and then put them back.

I never forget she’s gone, but often my body starts doing something and it takes a little while for my head to catch up.

So much pain over tiny little laundry.

I miss her, so deeply, every second of every day. At moments like this one, I just feel indescribable pain. I would give absolutely anything to dress her. I want to fold laundry that she’ll get to wear. The reality that she is gone and it isn’t temporary, it is permanent, breaks my whole heart.

Life without my littlest just doesn’t make any sense.