Letters for My Daughter
Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own anything. The characters and such are all owned by Shondaland, ABC, and probably a lot of other really rich folks.
A/N: This is my take on how I think things after the Season 8 plane crash might go. I'm basing a few things on rumors and such, but mostly this just follows the show up through the end of Season 8 and then goes from there into my own thoughts of what could happen.
Each chapter is a letter (with the date being the title). Some might be long and some will be quite short (like this one). It starts this past summer and will go on until I'm done. I'm not sure how this will go and it's really just a chance for me to play with my own ideas for the aftermath. Hopefully you guys will like the premise and be able to follow the story (it won't exactly be linear).
Let me know what you think.
And I promise I'll keep updating my other story (albeit slowly). This is just a fun (and usually quick) diversion when I need to be a little more dark and angsty.
June 8, 2012
I'm guessing by the date, you know this letter is being written just a few weeks after the crash. I'm finally stable enough that everyone is worried about my mental health as much as they are my physical health, so I started seeing one of the great psychiatrists at the hospital. She suggested that I write a diary to help process my thoughts, but that seemed too focused on me, and I've never been very good about analyzing myself.
And then I thought I'd rather write letters to you. Well, really to your future self, I guess, since you're only 14 months old right now. I'm hoping someday when you're older and have questions that you'll be able to read these letters and find some answers and maybe learn something from what I've gone through and will likely go through in the future. I'm sure some of these letters will be pretty hard to read, but hopefully not all of them. I just want to promise that I'll try to be truthful, even if I can't always write something happy. Because if there's one silver lining that can come out of all this tragedy, it should be that our kids learn something from us and maybe become better human beings because of it.
Right now things are just so incredibly strange. I suppose I'm still in quite a bit of shock. For the first few weeks I was mostly sedated and had to undergo a number of surgeries. It's only in the last week that I've been awake and trying to come to terms with everything. It still just feels like it happened to someone else, even though all I have to do is look down to where my leg used to be and know it is all too real. And yet I'm surprisingly numb, and not just physically. I haven't even cried yet or truly started to grasp the changes in my life that will come after this amputation. Right now, just waking up and getting through each day is all I can manage.
Maybe that's good for now. Just like I've been numbed up with sedatives and pain killers, the emotional pain will probably be too much when it really hits, but somehow I doubt it will fade as quickly as the physical pain will. I'm hoping that before then I can tell you about our lives before the crash, so you will know who we all were, while it's still fresh in my memory. I want you to know about all of us, but especially about your father. I'm sure most of your questions will be about him, about who he was and how much he loved you (and how much you loved him). We lost him way too soon and never doubt that he adored you, Sofia. I don't want to play down his death, or Lexie's for that matter, but we all had something die in us out there on that mountain, even those of us who are still physically alive. And even those who were still in Seattle will never, ever be the same. I already see it in Mommy. There are shadows in her eyes that were never there before. She's been trying to hide it, to be strong for me and for everyone else, but it still shows.
By the way, it does occur to me that you might not call her Mommy anymore. For that matter you might not call me Mama. You may be in one of those teenager phases where you call us by our first names or maybe even just "hey you", but Mommy and Mama are who we are right now, so just go with it, okay? Even if it seems a little childish to you.
Well, this has taken me most of the day to write, on and off. I still get so exhausted very easily. I promise that I'll write more later, because I do want to talk about our family before the crash before I tell you what happened to us all out there. But that will have to wait until tomorrow. Mommy said she'd bring me some soup for dinner and she should be here any minute.
I miss you so much right now, Baby Girl (it also occurs to me you probably don't like me calling you that either). It will probably be days until I can see you. I need to be stronger and Mommy says you've got a cold right now. As if you need that on top of everything else. I know this is probably hardest on you right now. Your whole world has changed. Mama and Daddy aren't around and Mommy is probably so stressed whenever you see her, even though I know she's doing her best to be there for you when she can. And I know our friends have been doing their best to take really good care of you when Mommy can't be home. But, still, it has to be hard that you don't understand what is going on. I'm so very sorry, sweetie. You've had so much trauma in your young life when all you should have is ponies and rainbows (not real ponies, mind you, we live in an apartment).
Well, Mommy just walked in so time to go.
Always remember that I love you with all my heart.