Remembering

Sweet November.
I remember how excited I was for your birth.
Your due date was the 5th, but you in your own strong ways, waited till the 19th. Your dad even kept taking me on river bed Jeep rides trying to induce labor.
It was a late Saturday night on the 18th that I started true labor. I made sure I took shower and shaved my legs in between the pains before waking your dad to go to the hospital.
I was so aware of this sacred event just beginning to unfold. We didn't know if you were a boy or girl....
When I woke after the c-section, I heard your dad saying over and over...it's a Sarah.....it's a Sarah....and I opened my eyes and saw you for the very first time.
What a joy beyond words.
I was told  I wouldn't be able to have children.
You were my miracle.
You would have been 35 this year.
So many things that might have been if you lived.
But, you did not.
I just miss you.
But am so very glad you lived...what a joy, unspeakable...sweet girl. I sure love you.

Hi there, sweet girl...I toast to you today.  My sweet girl.  I remember this last time we were here...just enjoying time.  We took time, we made time to make memories.  I am so glad we lived that way--not waiting till....

I have so many memories today of you and your "Sarah" way of living--how totally wild and well you lived.  Burning the candle at not only both ends, but somehow in the middle too.  I didn't know how short your life would be and sometimes would tell you to slow down, take it easy and you would just laugh at me...and keep on living the way you did.  Now it makes  sense to me.  I am glad you didn't listen to me but to your own internal compass.

It is hard to believe 6 years have passed.

How in the world did I keep walking this out? 

How did Chris keep walking?  The friends and family...how?

I know that God is so good to us...present in our agony, our sorrow, to help us.  To help me....

Just having such a hope to see you in the next life, the one that doesn't end.  The one my heart sings for.
Today is somehow better for me, to get to the anniversary finally after weeks of remembering and agonizing all over again the terrible tragedy and all the events that shook our world.

I celebrate today-your sweet and tender life...you.

I love you sweet Sarah C. 

I miss you so...

Night before 6 years

So, here I am sitting here, listening to Jonathan Livingston Seagull...in my studio...alone right now...candles lit, glass of merlot.

Gosh, I just miss you so. Life has been so odd with you gone. How did 6 years go by?
So much I want to tell you about. How I wish you could have met Rick and seen our life....how happy you would be.
So much missed...

You are missed.

I remember so much sweet Sarah C.

moms remember so much. Part if our job. At least it always was my job...you always wanted a story. Always saying...tell me about.......

Wish I could tell you another sorry.

Listening to Be....I remember the time we watched this movie...and both of us said whoever dies first would play it at their funeral....so you got it. And how similar the movie is to even how you died. Who would have ever known...oh my, sweet girl. Sweet, sweet girl...

Almost 6 years.
God, how does one walk this whole journey out?

Some days, it just seems like I see you, some girl with long hair turns her head just like you did and flips up her hair and for a second I see you.

Then a laugh in the distance has a sound like yours and I turn my head...and it hits me all over again...

Some days it is just too much to keep on living.  But I do.

It can wreck your mind to imagine it all over again, so don't go there too long, yet I do.

just missing you.

Missing being in Manarola, wanting to sit quietly...watch the waves...

Words don't come as often now, yet they swirl all the time in my heart...waiting to come out.  So here are some, to lay on this page, for me to see in print.

Most days are not too bad, yet some days just are...

Today is one, near the time of this 6th anniversary.  Full moons, smells of decay in the air.  Crickets chirping...memories calling.

You were the absolute best.  My dearest friend.  My sweet Sarah C.

sweet kisses

sometimes i just feel you close, looking over...touching different ones of us still here on this side...close.

love this picture.

missing you.

sweet mother's day 2013

 Another mother's day.  this is the 6th since you died.  I have sweet memories of the past mother's days.  I remember the one when you were little and my sister Marty and her daughter Kimmy were visiting us down in Newark.  Marty and I were sound asleep in my room and all of a sudden the bedroom door burst open and in you and Kimmy came--think you were around 12ish?  Kimmy was little...and on the stereo in the living room was blasting the 1812 overture...LOUD!!! and in you both came carrying a tray that had a kitchen towel on it, with a rose in a vase from our garden and a bowl of cement cereal or was it soup with crackers--anyways, it was cement...and you also made us a rolled up peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  I think there was chocolate milk too....
You guys came over to us--said, "Sit up!" You each threw another towel across our chest and set the tray on our lap and said, "Happy Mother's Day!" and left the room....oh yeah, you took a picture of us that Marty has a copy of--it is bad...wow.  We just looked at each other after you left the room and laughed right out loud!  What kids!!

Here I am now, and you are gone to heaven now for 5 1/2 years.  I have learned so much in this time.  I have met so many other moms who too, have lost a child or sometimes more than one.  I have entered a group of the most precious people who have sent their most precious ahead to heaven and continue to stand up each day and keep walking forward.  Some of us  have other children, but the one we sent is not to ever be replaced...each was unique and precious to us.

Some have lost children in the most horrendous ways-by taking their own lives, or being killed by someone or in a car accident or a rogue wave...or death from a dreaded disease way too young, or even in midlife.  I got an email today from a dear woman who is 85 who lost her dear daughter to cancer at 55.  She still grieves deeply.  Each of us has had to take that first step into this never known land of loss of our dear one.

I have learned so much from each of you--and the ones who don't read this blog.  I feel your presence on most every day, a silent holding of hands as we continue one.  Sometimes when I think I can't take another step, someone corresponds, or writes something to touch and encourage.

I miss you sweet Sarah.  I thought by now, you would have children of your own and I would be learning how to do grandmothering...not so.  I have been given the gift of older grandchildren and children when marrying Rick-the most precious gift given to me-other than you--in my life.  He came along as a gift from God just 54 days after you died and I believe somehow you influenced God to send him to me.  Don't know how that happens, but he is so precious.  From him being in my life, I now have the privilege to walk alongside my new kids and grandkids and learn more about loving than I have ever known.  You would have loved having them in your life.  I wish you could have experienced this with me.  

There isn't a day I don't think about you-where you are, what you are doing...what a challenge to my belief system.  I ponder heaven and what is next.  I no longer am afraid of death at all.  The transition to the next is ahead and I don't know how long I have here, but want to make the most of the moments.  

I sit here with a glass of Merlot, my choice of helping the pain of loss...all these years.  It is a sweet taste of grief.  The crushing of grapes along with the fermentation to make this sweet beverage.  I even ponder that you and Christopher were married at a vineyard.  I can still see you in your wedding dress walking though the vineyards--and ponder even that.  Seems like I sense you near when I toast to your life.  You are my dearest.  I miss you more than words can ever say.  

I celebrate the blessed gift of being called to be your mom today-a gift many never get to even do.  I am thankful today, not crushed.  I celebrate all the women today who also have lost and lift a toast to you my fellow companions of this journey.  I sense your closeness in spirit today.  

I also celebrate my dear mom--somehow I know you and Sarah are hugging each other today--with the other women in our families who have gone first.  Such a mystery...such a mystery.

just a woman grateful today.

 

Life goes on.
Somedays there are moments I am so disjointed in being present.  I feel caught between a place that includes you and the other place where you are not here.
Easter was a dear and precious time for us.  Somehow it was a time of such hope--resurrection, "He is risen" were words often spoken.  It is truly still my hope.  So many family have gone on now, including you.

I want to keep on.

This post isn't making much sense.  I should write more often.  My fingers are stiff with words not written.

Ache in my throat...holding back the tears.  No words to say that will make the ache go away.  No great ending paragraph that will tie it all up and make it clear.

This loss is a lifelong loss...a loss for each day, every day till I die.  I miss you.  I may live well, laugh and enjoy, but there is always an ache.  Memories of you make me smile and remember the dear things...but they don't take away the ache.

It is a road that never gets better...at least I don't think it will this side of heaven.  Just missing you.  sweet, sweet girl....