The other shoe dropped last night. Dinner at a busy restaurant, a trip to the Carre Four (think WalMart) and being out later than we liked seems to have driven it home to Caroline that the people she's with aren't going away... and Mama ain't coming back. She melted down at bathtime and started screaming, "Aaaaah-ma!" at the top of her (remarkably big, powerful) lungs. My wife finally got her soothed (I was completely at sea on what to do), only to have it start back this morning.
Part of me is actually relieved: if she didn't mourn, I'd be forced to conclude that she is a psychopath. Crying for the woman who has so obviously loved her for the past sixteen months is normal and healthy.
Still, I think that we have considerable cause for relief. Caroline likes to be held by us, will readily be fed by us, and will sometimes smile and giggle at us. I hope that a few more days will end her grieving... and all we'll have to deal with is teething (oh, yes: she's got a couple of nice, big, jagged molars erupting) and being gassy / hung up.
One day at a time... Scratch that: I'm becoming content to take it thirty minutes at a time.