Dear Mom,
I'm getting baptized tonight at the beach. I never really told anyone, but it's always been a special dream of mine... to get baptized in the ocean... it's happening!
I remember being baptized when I was 8... and although I meant it with my whole heart then, nervously pinching my nose in the pool-- anticipating Pastor Angelo tipping me back into the water... so much has happened since that day in my imperfect-but-perpetually-forgiven life...my skittish mind... my changeable heart... and while God has been with me every moment since... every step of the way... even the times I've strayed and put my trust in myself instead of Him, or in my own thoughts... my own understanding... my own strength... He's held onto me and never let me go... I need to show Him that I'm holding on this time too... all in. ♡
I know you'll be there. Thank you for teaching me how to talk to Jesus when I was a little girl. Both you and Dad. We have a lot to catch up on, but until then...
I still miss you so much, Mom.
Love always,
"Pookie"
Dear Mom,
It's almost been 4 months since you left and although I haven't been writing as much, I haven't been thinking about you any less... and your absence hasn't been hurting any less either. I think it actually aches more the closer it gets to the baby being here... because you're not. And you were so excited about her making her debut on/around your birthday, too. I hope she does... wouldn't that be something?
You already know what she looks like, don't you? What color her hair will be... her eyes... the curve of her smile... will she be happy? I worry that all of the sadness I've felt with her growing inside of me... all of the missing you... somehow makes her sad too... like she'll be less content because of my mourning or that my grief passes through to her just like the nutrients from the foods that I eat. I don't want to give her anything but joy.
I know it sounds silly, but you always understood my thoughts when no one else could make any sense of them. I miss that. So many of our family members and friends have been reaching out with kindness, love, and encouragement the past months... they're so wonderful and I feel like I must be so ungrateful sometimes because despite everyone's best efforts, there's still that heartbreaking ache in my life without you. It's always there. I just want my Mom back.
I still try to call you. I've still even gone to message you one time when Dad was signed into your account to change your cover photo for you. It didn't even occur to me that it wasn't you... as if my mind hadn't processed the full extent of loss yet, or that my heart's acknowledgment reverted back to temporary subconscious denial somehow.
I know it's comforting for him to see your memories. He needs that. But it still hasn't sunk in... the past tense of it all. The realization that all of the memories that I have of you are all of the ones I will ever have. I wish we made more. I went to change my ringtone today... to a calmer one... and as I was going down the list, the tracks automatically start playing a preview of the clip... Jordan Smith's version of "Chandelier" from The Voice started chiming out and I absolutely broke down remembering the time we listened to that song on repeat for probably about three days or so, driving Dad a little bit crazy... but it was our thing.
I’m gonna swing from the chandelier From the chandelier I’m gonna live like tomorrow doesn’t exist Like it doesn’t exist I’m gonna fly like a bird through the night Feel my tears as they dry I’m gonna swing from the chandelier From the chandelier But I’m holding on for dear life Won’t look down, won’t open my eyes Keep my glass full until morning light ‘Cause I’m just holding on for tonight Help me, I’m holding on for dear life Won’t look down, won’t open my eyes Keep my glass full until morning light ‘Cause I’m just holding on for tonight, on for tonight
We joked about how silly it would look to have people swinging from chandeliers and added it to our bucket lists... to swing from chandeliers while singing "Chandelier"... so I turned it into a ringtone for you, but it was eventually replaced by "The Goldbergs" theme song... our show.
The girls walked into the room as I sat there next to the pile of clean laundry I meant to fold, sobbing over the song playing... they knew I was crying because I miss you... they miss you too... so much.
"It's okay, Mom... we know you miss her. We miss Nonnie too."
I know that you felt bad about the past year... not feeling well enough to do as much as you wanted to with them, or take them to as many places as you'd have liked... I know you worried about the way they'd remember their time with you... but you shouldn't have.
Those girls adore you and remember so many wonderful thoughts, jokes, snuggles, and lessons you shared with them. We really were so blessed to have you in our lives... I just ache for the impossibility of more time with you on this side of forever.
I miss you, Mom. We all do.
Love always,
"Pookie"
It feels weird to say “happy birthday” to him when I know that it’s not natural for him to be happy without you. You’ve never missed a birthday since the two of you have known each other… over 40 years.
I’m happy he was born. Without his birthday, he wouldn’t be here (obviously), I wouldn’t be here… the girls wouldn’t be here… and our lives wouldn’t exist as we know them… but it’s difficult to see silver linings when the sunshine is hidden away from the clouds. Reflections need light.
Today also marks Norah’s 20 weeks… and as Bon Jovi would say, “Whooooah, we’re half way there… whooo-OAH… livin’ on a prayer!”
20 more weeks (give or take) until we get to meet her. She’s 10 inches long and about the size of an axolotl (I had to look it up).
I wonder if you’ve somehow ‘met’ her already… I’m not quite sure how that works exactly, but I know you’re looking out for us. I can feel it.
We already love our mini-girl so much and were able to feel her rolling around and kicking last night.
Machaela said that she’s going to teach her everything she knows and train her to be her protégé. Aria said that she’s going to be the best big sister ever and she’s going to be nicer to her than Machaela is. I think they’re both going to do just fine when she’s here and holdable. They are always sure to include her in conversation… it’s the sweetest thing. You’d be proud.
I started knitting Norah’s blanket the other day… I work on it one row at a time when I can sneak a couple minutes away from life’s typical chaos. I hope it’ll turn out alright.
It won’t be as comforting as your lullabies or as warm as your hugs, but it’s a start.
Kaleidoscopic Grace 