Sunday, September 15, 2013

Dear sweet joy-that-you-are,

We are closing in on three years since you left. Three years and I can't imagine where that time has gone.

I never thought I would be capable of making it this far. I remember the awe with which I looked at people who had suffered their losses years in the past.

I thought that surely I would die before I reached this point.

I miss you so very much every day.

I would never have understood how I could walk around with you so very close to me, while still so out of reach. I think that people would assume that I was crazy if I told them how constant you are in my thoughts- that I don't even see you as that tiny baby any longer, but as an almost three year old.

Because you have grown. Not as an abstract thought, but in reality. You aren't Beatrix the baby any longer- you are Beatrix the girl. Willful and defiant.

I can close my eyes and I know just what you look like. Your red, curly hair- I see the smattering of freckles across your nose. A big toothy smile.

I know that it is really you, because the resemblance to your dad is startling- this couldn't be some vision that my imagination dreamed up- it's the real deal.

I think that I know it's you, because a mother always knows her daughter. Your imprint was left in my subconscious somewhere, and your cells free-float within me. Your flawless DNA had already determined all of what was you.

I can see the white of your skin, the gray of your eyes. I wish that I could draw a picture of the you that I see when I close my eyes.

You are always so happy. Always.

You walk next to me, skipping along. The sash on your dress is always untied- you are always wearing a dress. You have slender arms. You don't wear glasses.

I know you daughter, smile-on-my-heart.

I live with one foot firmly planted here, and the other in the world you inhabit. While others see just an ordinary kitchen table, I look and see you sitting there, eating a jelly sandwich. You are a constant during my day.

And that constant is a beautiful thing.

I see those little hands that I so marveled over when you were born- those long, thin fingers. They pinch and grasp and do all sorts of clever almost three year old things.

I see the questions in your face as you begin to really explore the marvelous world.

I see you gentle with your sweet baby sister. Wild about your tenderhearted big brother.

If I close my eyes for just a tiny moment I can hear you breathing, so close to me.

Three years is a very long time. The days that I have spent away from you have stretched into seconds, lasting far longer than time normally should... the days before me stretch out like a highway- miles upon miles of walking before I get to that final destination where I will be able to touch you again.

I would give almost anything to be able to spend just one more minute with you.

I miss you terribly.


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