Sunday, August 26, 2012

Ashes, Ashes...

Ring around the rosie. Pocket full of posies. Ashes. Ashes. We all fall down.

Today marks the one year anniversary since my daughter's body became ashes.

Mike carried her in her little basket and put her in the crematorium. I screamed. I screamed. How could we be doing this to the child we loved.

That whole evening I thought about her. I thought about her flesh melting from her bones. The little heart necklace made of metal getting hotter and hotter and burning her sweet flesh. Her bones getting so hot they could not take it anymore and they crumbled beneath the heat. Why were we doing this to a child we loved.

I`m glad we did so much ourselves even if it was horrible and painful. Dressing my dead child is one of the worst things I have ever done. Holding her hand while she died was worse.

Samuel picked out the dress that she wore. He always liked to pick out her dresses and this was something he could do for the little sister he loved so much. Turns out he made a good choice. He chose one with a matching hat and we kept the hat instead of cremating it so we could remember the pattern of the dress she wore. The only other time she wore that little flowered dress was to a friend`s wedding in the spring of 2011. Before our life turned upside down and inside out.

So Eva is cremated. Burned. Ashes.

All of my sweet baby, scraped up into a little pewter horse that was meant to be a piggy bank for a living girl, never an urn for a dead one.This little horse sits on Eva`s shelf. Next to her picture. Unless people look closely at the engraving, not many suspect that this little horse holds a piece of my heart.

And today, one year later, here I am with all my impotent RAGE burning within me as not one single person remembered that it was the day Eva was cremated. The last day that I held her body was a year ago today. I looked at everyone with their smiling faces and not one person remembered. I probably wouldn't have remembered either, if it hadn't been my daughter.


  1. Time goes by but the pain is still searing. There is so much I want to say here, and yet I can't really say anything. I guess it's just easier to talk in person through the tears.

  2. Anella, reading your blogs and through your honesty sharing in your grief. It hurts and I can't even imaging how much it must hurt you. I feel so helpless, I think we all do. But thank you for letting us be part of it a little bit.

  3. I am so sorry for you and your family. I wish that there were words that would be sufficient to comfort you. I can't wait some day to see my Caleb's glorified body, but until then all I have to hold onto some of God's promises like...

    “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. ” 2 Corinthians 12:9 and

    "He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart." Psalm 91:4

    Also, I don't know if I shared this with you before or not, but I signed up for a daily email from this griefshare site and found they were very helpful.

    I am not usually up at 1:37 in the morning, but am having an allergy attack and decided to turn the computer on. God is giving me this extra time during my usual sleeping hours to pray and I will pray for you and your family.

    With hugs and Hope,

  4. so many awful anniversaries to mark Eva's passing into the hands of Jesus. Very sweet that Samuel picked out his little sister's dress. My heart aches so much for you when I read about all the heartache you've been through...praying!

  5. Oh love. I just try not to think about it, the cremation. Because I can't believe it, that I let her burn. But I couldn't face burying her either. I suppose I just desperately, desperately wished that she wasn't dead and that I didn't have to do either of these things to that little body that I loved so much.

    I'm so sorry that nobody remembered with you. It's so hard as these dates pass and we are the only ones who do. But, as you say, would I remember if it hadn't been my daughter? Probably not. And in many ways that makes me feel ashamed of my own selfishness. But there are probably only so many sad stories and awful things that one human heart can absorb. Sigh.

    And, of course, I am even more sorry that your Eva died. That you have a piece of your heart in a pewter horse that should have been a piggy bank for a little girl. Just so very sorry.

  6. Oh, Em. Sending you so much love. I'm sorry nobody remembered, regardless of whether they should have or not. And I'm sorry you had to go through what you did. Such horrors, really. Hugs to you, mama. Xx

  7. Oh, I am so sorry. I did not know this was the day. Painful memories, sweet memories ...Eva's life has touched all of our hearts forever.

  8. Em, I am so, so sorry. I think picking up A's ashes was almost the very worst of everything for me; knowing my baby was inside that horrible green velvet bag; that her little body had burned; that all the hope of her was in a plastic baggie inside that awful bag. I'm just so sorry - for you and Eva and all the babies and mothers. And I know your rage; I feel it too and hate it.

  9. The thought of anyone's precious child being destroyed in any way is torturous. Knowing it was my friend's child, is even worse. I wouldn't want to entertain the thought of such a thing happening to any of my own children. What that does to a person's heart is beyond me... unimaginable.
    All I can say is a have en enormous amount of respect for those parents who've experienced such horrific things and remain sane.
    Anella, I respect and admire you for the way you've handled yourself through all this heartache and turmoil. I pray God will bless you exceedingly!

  10. Em, I admire you so much for caring for Eva yourselves. In life you mothered her, in death you mothered her. And it's the most difficult parenting in the whole world. I wish that I would have stayed with Nathaniel's body until the crematorium. We took him from the hospital to the mortuary, and my husband placed him in the funeral director's arms, and we walked out of the building and fell apart. It was like we were dropping him off at childcare. Only we were leaving him behind forever. I wish that I would have held him in my arms until the very end, because he needed to be in my arms. As hard as it would have been, I wish that I would have been there for him.

    There is no other appropriate response other than screaming. Screaming and screaming and screaming.

    I wish I could hold your hand today, and make you hot cups of tea. I'm crying with you.


  11. I'm sorry nobody remembered such a significant date. A terrible, painful memory in itself, intensified by your anger that nobody else seemed to care. What a lonely, awful feeling.

  12. I found this one hard to read, partially b/c of how raw it was, mostly b/c it felt like a page out of my own journey. Horrible, horrible thing to have in common but grateful to have found each other. Thinking of you & Eva and my James tonight.

  13. I'm so sorry. I understand your pain. My 23 year old son died suddenly almost 15 weeks ago. Words can't capture the raw pain.
    I've been putting together a site dedicated to bereaved parents and siblings.
    I've added your blog.

  14. It doesn't matter how young or old they are, they are always our babies.

    I checked out your site. It's really well done and a tribute to your son. I will pass on the link to others too. And thank you for adding my blog.

  15. Thank you. I hope it helps you to find other parents and that it helps more parents to find your blog.

  16. I'm new to your blOg, I lost my little girl on August 11 2011, August 26 was also the day we said goodbye to our daughter. Thibking of you X