loss

Today was a hard day.

It didn't help that it was gloomy weather.

But I suppose that matched the mood.

One year ago tomorrow a sweet little girl was suddenly taken from us.

I'll never, ever be the same.

And I'm not her mama.

I know I'm not the only one.

There are so many senses that will never be forgotten in the past year- a year without her.

I'll never, ever forget how small her mama's voice was when she told me how bad things were in the hospital.

I'll never, ever forget her daddy telling me she was gone.

And I'll never, ever forget the incredible wave of sadness that enveloped me and exposed my raw grief- unsensored, in front of my children.

I'll forever be able to close my eyes and watch her little sister walking in circles in the big swimming pool, lost without her big sister to play with.  Her big brother making up excuses to try and get his mama to come back to herself.  Her daddy handling every detail imaginable in an unimaginable circumstance.

I'll forever feel the void in our trips to Cannon Beach, the missing blond braids at the baseball games, the birthday parties. 

I know it's a part of life- circle of life and all.  I know that where she is is far, far better than anyplace I could dream of or imagine.

But it's hard to get over the emptiness.

For a long time I worried who would brush her perfect yellow hair?  Who would give her all the meat she wanted to eat?  Who would hold her hand?  Who would look into her beautiful, soulful, brown eyes and share a giggle over the silly (things the way she did with her mama, siblings, friends, and anyone else who was lucky to experience that)?  Who would show her all the fun things in life?  Who would watch her explore those fun things in life?  Who would read to her?  Who would snuggle her when she needed love?

I felt a hole in my heart bigger than earth.

Again, I'm not her mama.

I worried that her mama wouldn't get the sparkle back in her eyes.

I worried that her little sister wouldn't know how to explore life without her there to guide her.

That her big brother wouldn't have someone to play catch with.

That her daddy wouldn't have a bowling partner.

I've learned so much in this past year.

Her mama did get her sparkle back, and I know she had a big part of that.  She's worked hard to do it for her two other kids.  I think a lot of times it takes a conscious effort.  But the sparkle's there, thank God.

Her sister is dealing with the grief of losing her best friend as only a five year old can... but she's learned to zip around- her sassy little self.
Her brother is working through an enormous change in his family and his own grief, old enough to know exactly what's going on, yet he's doing awesome in all he undertakes and is growing into such a wonderful young man.
Her daddy has shared so much of himself through her, in such a beautiful way.

I wish I knew what do do for them.  I wish I could think of something, anything, to make things just a little easier, a little better for them.  I'm just at a loss.

We're preparing to go back to the place where I learned she was sick, so very sick, then gone- and I'm a little scared it'll be too much.  I'm not sure I'll be able to go back to the place I was when her daddy called.  But I'm trying to move on and dwell on the good things.

I don't allow myself to dwell on the questions and wonderings no one can answer.  I choose to believe that she is surrounded by more glory and beauty and love than we can ever imagine or dream of.  That she can't fathom the sadness of her absence.  That time to her, now, is milliseconds to our lifetimes.

I believe in heaven, in God, and that we'll get to see her before she knows it.  That she is happy, laughing, doing all the things she loves, and enjoying watching all of us down here trying to live a life a little better because of having known her. 

I've learned to allow my children to indulge in sweets, soda, and extravagances when I can.

I've learned to venture outside my gerbil circle and show my kids the wonders of the world we live in.

I've learned to cut loose more and experience life a little more fully.

I play a mean game of Charley bug.

I watch diligently for rainbows.

I try to think of others a little more.

I ran a half marathon and plan to run another.

I try to live a life she would approve of.

That little girl had such an impact on me and my family- and I know we are not alone.

I am far better for having known her- I know I'm not alone, and I believe that she is not alone.  She can feel our love.

I'm so grateful I got to experience a little life with Sweet Charley B.