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.

I miss you.

I just miss you little girl.

Nathan Evan is two.

This day two years ago I felt alive again for the first time since my youngest child stopped being alive with me. She would have been exactly 2.5 years old the day after Nathan Evan, her namesake was born. I am so thankful every day for this rainbow child of mine who saved my life.

I can't believe he's made it to two! But he has. I hope he makes it to three...and beyond.

Today we celebrate Nathan with a quiet family party. Hot dogs on a campfire. Chips. Some veggies with ranch dip. Cause ranch dip is this little guys favourite thing to eat.

And cake of course.

I wish I knew what Eva would have loved to eat. Besides breastmilk. I can't wait to find out in heaven one fine day.

May the Lord bless you and keep you. May He shine his face upon you and give you peace dear readers. 

All my love,

Em

Make a wish

There's a special kinda pain that stabs me when kids we know get to make a wish. Another thing Eva never got to do.

The empty seat

We went to a Passover Seder today. 

Unexpectedly the seat right across from me between Josie and my mom was empty. 

The plate stayed untouched. The bitter herbs wilted. Eva should have been there. 

I practically saw her if I squinted. 

As we went through the order of the meal I learned so much. The bread of affliction. The broken bread wrapped in linen. Jesus' body broken and wrapped in linen. So much foreshadowing. I truly am in awe. 

And my heart is still missing an essential piece.

I miss you so much my Eva girl.

 

Reconnected.

I went to the hospital Friday with baby Felix for a heart check. Nathan played with some trains. Samuel helped me so much pushing the babies around. I spent several moments bawling in various corners of the hospital. I just miss my little girl so much there. I know lots of bereaved parents hate going back to the hospital but I seem drawn like a moth to a flame. It burns me and my grief surfaces intensely. But I like reconnecting with my grief in some levels. I like that even though I'm normal at home. Even though I rarely weep at home. Even though sometimes I feel disconnected from my daughter at home I can go back there and dose myself in pain. Know that the non-pain is only superficial. She is still and always intensely grieved. The hospital just scrapes a little of the sheen off of me. Reconnecting with my heartache feels good. She is so intensely missed. I am still so sad even though I am also happy. I guess it's just strangely good to know it's still there. Always. 

Au revoir.

Dear fellows on the journey without our children. I fear the inevitable has happened and my posts here have dwindled down to virtually nil. I will still post occasionally. But if any of you would like to stay in more regular contact please comment with your facebook username or email. I prefer facebook tbh. I won't publish your comment but will either message you on Facebook or send you an email. This is not goodbye my friends, merely au revoir.