Two years ago today the body of my gorgeous baby girl became ashes.
Ashes. Ashes. We all fall down (and weep).
I hate thinking about what her body endured in life to stay and I hate thinking about what her body endured in death to become ashes.
The rational part of me knows she felt nothing as the skin melted from her body. As her hair was singed (probably the first part of her to be in flame). As her bones succumbed to the heat and crumbled. The mom part of me would nevernevernever let that happen to my child. How could I let that happen to my child? And I weep.
I hate today almost as much as I hate the 15th. I hate that this was the last time I held her beautiful body. Christians will tell me that her body is merely a shell (and I agree) but, you see, I loved her body. I loved her ears and her toes. Her hair and her eyes. Her belly and her soft shoulders. Her eyebrows and her mouth. I loved every.single.inch of her. And I miss her body. And my body remembers the weight of her in my arms. The feel of her against me. And I miss her. Miss the only daughter I ever nursed. The daughter who once shared a body with me only to leave me behind.
Eva my darling, my dear, my precious, my sweet. All the sweet things I want to whisper in your ear...all the moments of joy and sweetness I want to share with you. All the love I want to lavish on you. All the everything that I miss...where are you?
Two years of ashes. Two years of ashes.