Day 90

Before we started our 5 am lap swims, Constance hated getting up in the morning. I would try to give her pep talks, offer her incentives, and even sales pitch her. Dragging her out of bed was a physical task that took multiple attempts.

This morning, I had to recycle the things I used to say to her to peel myself out of bed for barre class after a sleepless night. “Now is the time. No one can do this for you. You’ve got to start your work to finish it. Being on time shows yourself and everyone else respect. You can do this”—lots of cheesy affirmations that could also be fortunes in cookies.

Once Constance and I started the 5 am swims, she was filled with joy—happily waking up and going to the car. People would comment on how incredible it was that I could get her to go in the mornings and I would always correct them. “She loves swimming. I’m taking her to make her happy. I’d rather be at home drinking coffee and reading the news,” I would assure them. There is nothing like seeing your child ecstatic to get you out of bed in the morning.

Mourning the loss of Constance, I’m incapable of being happy to get up or exercise. The closest I come is finding an excuse to talk about her in my day. Today, that happened when I was standing next to a speech pathologist in barre class. Then I think, I’m happy I came.

The next best thing is when something funny happens. For example, when a muscular woman next to me let out an unintended curse while attempting a lower and upper body curl combination to tempo, I concurred, “Are you reading my mind?” And we both laughed.

Nothing is going to compare to swimming with Constance but I think it’s okay if I smile and laugh anyhow. It makes life more bearable.