A very strong statement for a mourning parent to take in. I read an article yesterday where the author describes the way she has been able to cope with the death of her second child and how raising her subsequent baby and first son has been different, yet very beautiful, as her second child sends her what I like to call heavenly kisses.
The author has obviously come a long way to be able to make such a statement . At this moment in my journey, I don’t think that I will ever be able to say that. We lost A LOT in losing Emme, and I don’t think her loss will ever be described as not losing a thing.
I remember the day it truly hit me. The day I was no longer numb. When Emme’s absence became overwhelming. The day we picked up her ashes.
I remember having to choose Emme’s urn and how obsessive I became about finding the perfect one. Eric wanted to make things easy for me and pick it out himself but I very much wanted to plan all the details of her memorial. I chose how much of her ashes we would spread and how much we would keep. The word ashes has an entire new meaning to me now.
I remember picking up her ashes (I demanded to go with Eric, he didn’t think it would be a good idea). I remember sobbing in the car as we left the funeral home, thinking, how is this little bag I now hold in my hands, all I had left of my little girl. It all seemed surreal. Eric placed his hand over mine and simply squeezed. I cried all the way home. It wasn’t fair.
In all the crying I did, her ashes made me the angriest. I think life was redefined for me that day. I went from holding my living baby, to holding a little bag of ashes that now was all I physically had left of her. But her presence, like the author also says, after her death has been clear and comforting. Her heavenly kisses make it bearable when it feels like it’s not. She makes us smile in the gifts she gives us from up above. So although our loss was great, so much so that words come short, we still very much feel her love every day.
Confessions of a Wife, Mother & Cook 