Saturday, January 30, 2016

I can see it in their eyes.

I can see it in people's eyes. When they hear 2011. Two thousand and eleven. It's soo long ago. Practically another time.  Their eyes glaze over. Why do I keep talking about my child? Why do her brothers and (adopted) sister still mention her? Why don't you just get on with it Em? And I do. I really do get on with it.

But what I can't get over is that I can't believe it's 2016. To me, that's harder to believe than 2011 was so long ago. I can't explain how it feels like my life stopped in 2011. The world stopped turning (except it didn't). 

I still miss my little girl every single day. 

Sometimes I am happy and I find it hard verging on impossible to comprehend that I once held my heart's desire in my arms. And that I never will again.

Laughing still carries the weight of grief and wonder in that I can't believe I am able to laugh.

And then sometimes the grief comes and bites me so hard. 

Last week there was a baby dedication at our church. For a little girl. And then the sang the song we played at Eva's funeral. That kind of shit hits like nothing else. And I can't believe so many years have passed. Nobody even remembers anymore (except a very few for whom I'm thankful). So many in our church never met Eva.  Don't even know our large family is short one small but priceless member.

I seriously don't know how I keep on keeping on. How I've managed to kept it sort of together these past years.  How is it possible that it's 2016? How is it possible that people's eyes glaze over when they hear 2011?




Sunday, October 25, 2015

I will hold you again

Life slowly and quickly moves on...

Sometimes I am driving and feeling okay. And then thoughts of you come in my mind. Sometimes you feel like a dream. I wonder if you ever really were part of this world. It seems unreal that I should have had you and lost you so quickly. I can't even imagine you as a five year old. But I know you were here and there is a hole in my heart the shape of you that hurts beyond belief even this many years later. I never thought it was possible to weep so much for someone so many years later. Some days I'm okay and some days it's like you died yesterday and all I want to do is scoop you up into my arms and hold you forever.  I don't want to die as I know I'm needed here and I truly love your brothers (and Josie) but the anticipation of living so many more years with this hole in my heart is horrible. The hardest part is there is absolutely nothing I can do about any of it. Nothing.

I miss you baby girl. I wish you would come to me in a dream but I've given up hoping, even for that. 

I love you and I will hold you again, in heaven.
Mama



Friday, October 9, 2015

Spinning


Eva would be five this October 15th. 

It's a lot harder sitting here not getting ready for a birthday party then it is getting ready for one. I'd say this is a good case of the lead up is worse than the day itself. Cause so far, the lead up has been really crappy. 

My soul aches.

And it's Canadian thanksgiving. 

And I'm thankful. But sad too. So I've decided to quit thanksgiving. At least for this year. I just can't get it together to host a big meal, clean up and not prepare for a birthday party. Not preparing for a birthday party takes a lot out of a mama.

This October 14 Nathan will be exactly 2.5 years old. Had Eva lived she would have been exactly 2.5 years old when she would have met and held Nathan for the very first time.

Felix is over a year old. Things are changing. Spinning. 

I can't quite pinpoint the significance of it all but this feels like a big month somehow.

Friday, August 7, 2015

Eva's Ride. Again and then not.

Tomorrow is our fourth Eva's Ride.

As the landscape of our grief changes, so, too, do other things and one of these is Eva's Ride.  It's not that we love her less. If anything it's that our hearts just love her so much. It's that there is so much love and nowhere to put it.

So we have decided this is our last Eva's Ride.

Eva's Ride has been a big deal for me to organize. I start with thank you cards in March and I go to our usual sponsors and ask for hot dogs, t shirts, a bbq. It's not hard you know but people get tired of it. They get tired of being asked for stuff. And I don't want to be turned down. It would do me in.

And it's emotional. The cards, the hot dogs, the water, the bbq and it's all not that big a deal except that it's all in memory of my daughter. And it just.hurts.so.damn.much.

And I want to end it when people are still coming. End it before I have to beg people to come. End it before it's so in my face that nobody remembers. Or wants to remember.

I guess it's just time.

I do have some other things up my sleeve but they are much smaller scale and I can do it myself as I want to or need to

So stay tuned something is coming for her birthday in October. Small. But kind.

Much love from Eva's Mama.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

The yearning.

I don't think the yearning will ever go away. The longing for the could have been. The missing of my little girl. The emptiness that fills me. The absence of her presence. 

Mostly, I'm okay but sometimes I stumble across an old message from someone. From a time that hope lived.  And I'm back there with her and all I want to do is scoop her up and hold her. Breathe her in and never let her go. 

Time does not heal all wounds. The scab gets tougher but sometimes it knocks up against the past and the pain is jarring. 

Today. Gosh I miss this little light of mine. My little sparkling Eva girl.


Friday, May 29, 2015

Sweet like Eva

Today. Today I had a moment of sweetness. Sweet like Eva.

Today I went to a little local kids clothing exchange shop. I brought some things and I stopped and looked through the racks as my little boys needed shorts. I looked through the girl clothes too, for Josie. And there I found a red shirt. Size 4. Just right for my dark haired, blue eyed Eva. Just right. And I looked at it and I didn't take it. And I thought of my girl and how cute she would have looked in that shirt.

The tears flow now as I remember and write, but in the moment there was sweetness in the clothes she would have worn. A sweetness that surprised me as I took a moment to caress the shirt she might have worn, had our lives been different.

My first taste of grief and sweetness on my tongue and in my heart.

I miss you little girl. Miss buying  you clothes and Christmas presents and feeling your little girl arms wrap around me. Miss your voice saying 'I love you'. Miss the Mother.'s Day Cards and little drawings. Miss the sticky summer popsicle hands. Miss the dancing under the sprinkler. Just miss you my little girl.

One day. One day we will dance together again. And I will hold you in my arms forever.



Thursday, April 16, 2015

I miss you.

I just miss you little girl.