This time last year...this time last year...this time last year...this time last year.
This thought has been a constant companion for me for the last year. This time last year Eva was born, this time last year we were happy, this time last year Oma gave Eva a necklace for Christmas, this time last year I was worried about Eva not gaining weight, this time last year we took her to a pediatrician, this time last year we were in PICU, this time last year we were doing the work-up for a heart transplant, this time last year we had hope, this time last year we were living at Ronald McDonald House, this time last year the doctors let us come home (home!!!) with Eva (oh the joy of it!), this time last year we took Eva to see her brothers play soccer, this time last year we took Eva to church again, this time last year we picked Saskatoon berries with our friends on our land...for the life of me I cannot remember if I gave Eva a taste of a Saskatoon berry fresh from the bush, and warmed by the sun (one of the best tastes on earth). I don't know why I long to know if I gave her a taste of the Saskatoon berries or not...it just seems like something I could have done, but might not have. I remember thinking that ,oh, she would have lots of time to eat Saskatoon berries, so I think I never gave her a taste...
This time last year my circle of friends was much larger (and smaller) than it is now. I had friends that have left me, or I have left them, or we have left each other. Unable or unwilling to chart new territory with the person I am now.
But, oh, I have new friends too. New friends that are united to me in the grief and grieving of their children. Old friends that have stuck it out with me and who are much larger in my life than they were before. Before I was the me that I am now. The me that looks very much like the me I used to be but who is no longer that person. And so this time last year...the future looked so much more promising than it does this time this year...and yet there is also Hope.
For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. (Jeremiah 29:11) and so I choose to trust the Lord. Choose to follow Him and give Him my heart. And while this verse is very difficult for me to wrap my mind around when my daughter died. My daughter died! Why my daughter Lord? What plans for a hope and a future did you have for her? Where is her hope and future, O God?
But she is in Heaven and is more alive than I am. Angels tuck her in and she has playmates as she waits expectantly for her mom to come Home to her. She is not missing me, it is I who am missing her, missing her more than anything in the whole world...
How I long to hold you and kiss you my sweet, how I long for your smiling eyes and to give you a Saskatoon berry that the boys had picked for you. The boys miss you so much too, my treasure.
And still I choose to trust. As difficult as it is. I choose to trust. As shaken as my faith is, as sinking as I feel, I choose to trust you Lord.
That through all this craziness You know what You are doing, as impossible as that feels. Because often I wonder, God, do You really know? Because, God, there is so much hurt and pain in the world. So many people crying out to You and yet you appear to be silent? Why God, Why? And I know I'll never know the answers to these questions this side of Heaven and when I get there will I even want to know? And so, until Heaven, I choose to trust. In my weakness and in my despair I choose to trust. When I am weak and beaten, when my enemies rise up against me I choose to trust.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
August.
So here we are in August. The month I hate the most and the tears have come unbidden and uncalled.
I remember all the hope we had at the beginning of last August. The coming home and the excitement to be in my own house again. Eva was home and now she's Home.
This August is so much different. We are approaching the end of the first year without Eva and my emotions run the gamut. We've had some really good news in our family recently but I feel that while I'm not focusing on some things anymore, the uncertain quicksand of my early grief has returned with a vengeance and I don't know who I am again.
My grief for Eva has surged again and I know I'll manage to crawl my way out of this pit again too but I just miss her so much. I remember her sweet, smiling face and the joy that exuded from her eyes when she smiled. I just wish so bad I could hold her again and see her smile at me and see her walk in the grass outside.
I guess I'll always hate August.
The month death stole my daughter from me.
I remember all the hope we had at the beginning of last August. The coming home and the excitement to be in my own house again. Eva was home and now she's Home.
This August is so much different. We are approaching the end of the first year without Eva and my emotions run the gamut. We've had some really good news in our family recently but I feel that while I'm not focusing on some things anymore, the uncertain quicksand of my early grief has returned with a vengeance and I don't know who I am again.
My grief for Eva has surged again and I know I'll manage to crawl my way out of this pit again too but I just miss her so much. I remember her sweet, smiling face and the joy that exuded from her eyes when she smiled. I just wish so bad I could hold her again and see her smile at me and see her walk in the grass outside.
I guess I'll always hate August.
The month death stole my daughter from me.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Home from Sunnybrae!
We are back from holidays by the beautiful Shuswap lake. It was marvellous and we had an unexpected person join us too, so that was even better!
We went to Sunnybrae bible camp for 1 glorious week of no cooking and other activities. It was so much fun we definitely want to go back again next year if we can swing it. The kids had a blast making crafts and discovering through science experiments.
We are so thankful we were able to have this little getaway from real life, although so much real life still travels in our hearts. There was a talent show on Thursday night. I wanted to include Eva in our vacation so I read the poem I read at her funeral. It went well and I felt like I honoured our little Eva girl who we miss so much.
A Child Of Mine
by Edgar Albert Guest, 1930
(some modifications are mine, I hope you don't mind Mr. Guest)
I will lend you, for a little time,
A child of mine, He said.
For you to love the while she lives,
And mourn for when she's dead.
It may be ten or 'leven months
Or twenty-two or three.
But will you, till I call her back,
Take care of her for Me?
She'll bring her charms to gladden you,
And should her stay be brief.
You'll have her lovely memories,
As solace for your grief.
I cannot promise she will stay,
Since all from earth return.
But there are lessons taught down there,
I want this child to learn.
I've looked the wide world over,
In search for teachers true.
And from the throngs that crowd life's lanes,
I have selected you.
Now will you give her all your love,
Nor think the labour vain.
Nor hate me when I come
To take her home again?
I fancied that I heard them say,
'Dear Lord, Thy will be done!'
For all the joys Thy child shall bring,
The risk of grief we'll run.
We'll shelter her with tenderness,
We'll love her while we may,
And for the happiness we've known,
Forever grateful stay.
But should the angels call for her,
Much sooner than we've planned.
We'll brave the bitter grief that comes,
And try to understand.
While we were there I also met a mom whose daughter, Hilda, died at 23 days old. 50 years ago. Rena only got to hold her little girl once. She has no pictures of her except the ones she holds in her mind and in her heart. My heart aches to give Rena a photograph of little Hilda, but that is never to be. And she will not lay eyes on Hilda's face again, until they meet in Heaven.
Things were so different back then, yet also similar. Hilda was a twin and I was honoured to meet Hilda's twin sister, Irene, at camp. People told Rena that she was lucky she still had one child left. And she was lucky, but also so incredibly unlucky. It echoes some of the stupid things people have said to us, over 50 years later "well, at least you have the boys". Yes, we are lucky, darn lucky to have the boys, but there isn't a day that goes by when I wonder if the boys are going to be taken from us too. We are lucky, but also so incredibly unlucky.
She encouraged me to keep Eva alive in our hearts and in our minds by having a birthday party for her every year, which we had planned to do already but it was encouraging to hear this from someone whose daughter died 50 years ago.
We went to Sunnybrae bible camp for 1 glorious week of no cooking and other activities. It was so much fun we definitely want to go back again next year if we can swing it. The kids had a blast making crafts and discovering through science experiments.
We are so thankful we were able to have this little getaway from real life, although so much real life still travels in our hearts. There was a talent show on Thursday night. I wanted to include Eva in our vacation so I read the poem I read at her funeral. It went well and I felt like I honoured our little Eva girl who we miss so much.
A Child Of Mine
by Edgar Albert Guest, 1930
(some modifications are mine, I hope you don't mind Mr. Guest)
I will lend you, for a little time,
A child of mine, He said.
For you to love the while she lives,
And mourn for when she's dead.
It may be ten or 'leven months
Or twenty-two or three.
But will you, till I call her back,
Take care of her for Me?
She'll bring her charms to gladden you,
And should her stay be brief.
You'll have her lovely memories,
As solace for your grief.
I cannot promise she will stay,
Since all from earth return.
But there are lessons taught down there,
I want this child to learn.
I've looked the wide world over,
In search for teachers true.
And from the throngs that crowd life's lanes,
I have selected you.
Now will you give her all your love,
Nor think the labour vain.
Nor hate me when I come
To take her home again?
I fancied that I heard them say,
'Dear Lord, Thy will be done!'
For all the joys Thy child shall bring,
The risk of grief we'll run.
We'll shelter her with tenderness,
We'll love her while we may,
And for the happiness we've known,
Forever grateful stay.
But should the angels call for her,
Much sooner than we've planned.
We'll brave the bitter grief that comes,
And try to understand.
While we were there I also met a mom whose daughter, Hilda, died at 23 days old. 50 years ago. Rena only got to hold her little girl once. She has no pictures of her except the ones she holds in her mind and in her heart. My heart aches to give Rena a photograph of little Hilda, but that is never to be. And she will not lay eyes on Hilda's face again, until they meet in Heaven.
Things were so different back then, yet also similar. Hilda was a twin and I was honoured to meet Hilda's twin sister, Irene, at camp. People told Rena that she was lucky she still had one child left. And she was lucky, but also so incredibly unlucky. It echoes some of the stupid things people have said to us, over 50 years later "well, at least you have the boys". Yes, we are lucky, darn lucky to have the boys, but there isn't a day that goes by when I wonder if the boys are going to be taken from us too. We are lucky, but also so incredibly unlucky.
She encouraged me to keep Eva alive in our hearts and in our minds by having a birthday party for her every year, which we had planned to do already but it was encouraging to hear this from someone whose daughter died 50 years ago.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
A Ray of Light
Yesterday a little ray of light entered our lives...the walls in my heart came down. They are utterly destroyed, and now my heart is soft and vulnerable again. That is a scary feeling because my heart is very fragile right now. I wish I could, but I just can't share details with you now. In 30 days I will tell you more, dear readers.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Snuggles.
Vincent cried out tonight. He does this multiple times a night. I was annoyed. He asked me to snuggle with him. I didn't really want to. I wanted to read and do some other stuff. I looked at his sweet little mischievous face and I thought how if Eva were to appear and ask me to snuggle with her I would drop everything and run to scoop her up. I would snuggle her as long as God let me. So I lay down with Vincent and snuggled him, cause you never know what tomorrow will bring...or if this is your last snuggle. I never want to regret not snuggling.
If you are lucky enough to have living children, give them a little extra snuggle tonight.
If you only have children in Heaven, I pray for dream snuggles for you.
If you are lucky enough to have living children, give them a little extra snuggle tonight.
If you only have children in Heaven, I pray for dream snuggles for you.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Eva's hopeful yellow dress.
One of the ways I 'mother' my Eva is by writing on this blog. I have a little flower garden too, and a shelf that I can dust. But writing is my thing, has always been my thing and is more alive than dusting a shelf. And when winter comes again, as it inevitably must...then my writing will continue while the flowers are dead beneath a blanket of snow.
So when I say that writing is my way to mother Eva but I don't write on the 15th, well, it kinda catches and squeezes my heart in a way I cannot describe. I'm not even mothering her in the small way that I can. Oh, I thought all day yesterday about what I would write but it was a busy day. We went to Cowboy Church in the morning and in the afternoon an exhaustion that seems to have lain dormant in my body overtook me and I slept the merciful sleep of the grief-struck. My impotent rage laid quietly on the sofa as the hours passed in a dreamless oblivion.
In the evening we took the boys to the chuckwagons at the rodeo. When we got home it was 10pm and I was, once again, exhausted. I thought about her at the rodeo you know, cause last year we didn't go to the rodeo. The rodeo is a family tradition for us and Eva never went to the rodeo.
So here I am today. The day after another 15th. The 16th. And you know, the pain is the same all the days of the month. I miss her every single day. Not just on the 15th...although there is a little more twisty hurt on the 15th that doesn't appear on the other days.
When we were in PICU someone we did not know at the time but whose daughter turned into the only little friend Eva ever had or ever will have on earth stopped in and brought a box of treats for the boys and some little things for Eva. One of which was a little yellow dress. When I saw that little dress come out of the box I thought for sure she would never have the chance to wear it. I called it her hopeful yellow dress. Eva was 8 months old in PICU. We had her 6 month photo hanging up over her bed and I never thought I would get a 9 month photo of her. No one was very optimistic about us getting a 9 month photo.
Fast forward to July 15th 2011, Eva was out of the hospital but we were still living in Ronald McDonald House in the city. Amazing! I drove to a photo studio and got a 9 month photo of her. She was wearing...you guessed it...her hopeful yellow dress. Once I had those photos I was so sure she would live. I thought that those photos were it, you know. I had those 9 month photos and my baby was going to live, live, live. She looks like the picture of health and happiness in those photos. And who knew that under that yellow dress and under that beautiful baby flesh, her heart was already breaking. I was so happy that day. You have no idea. An innocent, pure joy I`ll never have again.
Last Christmas I found a website that makes amazing necklaces. They`re not cheap. But we won`t be sending Eva to college so dropping $125 on a necklace feels like nothing. This necklace is gold and it has Eva`s photo on it...and she`s wearing, of course, her hopeful yellow dress...that yellow dress now lies peacefully in the same pink box, with butterflies, that it came in. No stains or spit up on this dress. That hopeful yellow dress was also displayed at her funeral but all the hope it once held for me is gone.
So this July 15th was hard because now I know the outcome. There was to be no happy ending for me. No Eva to take to the rodeo this summer, except as a photo on my necklace...and a heart shaped pendant hanging from my rear view mirror, with a butterfly hairclip attached to the cord.
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Eva, on July 15th 2011. 9 months old, in her hopeful yellow dress.
And we still live because we have the hope of Jesus and a future with our darling in Heaven.
So when I say that writing is my way to mother Eva but I don't write on the 15th, well, it kinda catches and squeezes my heart in a way I cannot describe. I'm not even mothering her in the small way that I can. Oh, I thought all day yesterday about what I would write but it was a busy day. We went to Cowboy Church in the morning and in the afternoon an exhaustion that seems to have lain dormant in my body overtook me and I slept the merciful sleep of the grief-struck. My impotent rage laid quietly on the sofa as the hours passed in a dreamless oblivion.
In the evening we took the boys to the chuckwagons at the rodeo. When we got home it was 10pm and I was, once again, exhausted. I thought about her at the rodeo you know, cause last year we didn't go to the rodeo. The rodeo is a family tradition for us and Eva never went to the rodeo.
So here I am today. The day after another 15th. The 16th. And you know, the pain is the same all the days of the month. I miss her every single day. Not just on the 15th...although there is a little more twisty hurt on the 15th that doesn't appear on the other days.
When we were in PICU someone we did not know at the time but whose daughter turned into the only little friend Eva ever had or ever will have on earth stopped in and brought a box of treats for the boys and some little things for Eva. One of which was a little yellow dress. When I saw that little dress come out of the box I thought for sure she would never have the chance to wear it. I called it her hopeful yellow dress. Eva was 8 months old in PICU. We had her 6 month photo hanging up over her bed and I never thought I would get a 9 month photo of her. No one was very optimistic about us getting a 9 month photo.
Fast forward to July 15th 2011, Eva was out of the hospital but we were still living in Ronald McDonald House in the city. Amazing! I drove to a photo studio and got a 9 month photo of her. She was wearing...you guessed it...her hopeful yellow dress. Once I had those photos I was so sure she would live. I thought that those photos were it, you know. I had those 9 month photos and my baby was going to live, live, live. She looks like the picture of health and happiness in those photos. And who knew that under that yellow dress and under that beautiful baby flesh, her heart was already breaking. I was so happy that day. You have no idea. An innocent, pure joy I`ll never have again.
Last Christmas I found a website that makes amazing necklaces. They`re not cheap. But we won`t be sending Eva to college so dropping $125 on a necklace feels like nothing. This necklace is gold and it has Eva`s photo on it...and she`s wearing, of course, her hopeful yellow dress...that yellow dress now lies peacefully in the same pink box, with butterflies, that it came in. No stains or spit up on this dress. That hopeful yellow dress was also displayed at her funeral but all the hope it once held for me is gone.
So this July 15th was hard because now I know the outcome. There was to be no happy ending for me. No Eva to take to the rodeo this summer, except as a photo on my necklace...and a heart shaped pendant hanging from my rear view mirror, with a butterfly hairclip attached to the cord.
.jpg)
Eva, on July 15th 2011. 9 months old, in her hopeful yellow dress.
And we still live because we have the hope of Jesus and a future with our darling in Heaven.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Give me a wave here...
I post on here alot. I bare pieces of my heart and soul to you, my dear readers.
I have 28 followers but there are more hits than that on my page when I post. I'd love to hear a little bit from you...so if you're reading or following or I know you in real life or you're just stopping in from somewhere in cyberspace...give me a little wave will ya...I could use the little pick me up right about now.
I have 28 followers but there are more hits than that on my page when I post. I'd love to hear a little bit from you...so if you're reading or following or I know you in real life or you're just stopping in from somewhere in cyberspace...give me a little wave will ya...I could use the little pick me up right about now.
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