It has been nearly seven years since my daughter, Cheyenne, died. Yet, when it comes to grief, I remain mostly at its mercy, never quite knowing when it will hit (although it is considerably less frequent than the first two years). I do know the time of year which yields the highest rate of possibility for emotional outbursts in public place like the grocery store, parties, and baby's showers- holidays. Especially "family" centered holidays ones: Christmas, , Halloween Easter, Mother's and Father's Day.
This holiday season, my children and I are visiting the cemetery where my little girl was put to rest. We will decorate it carefully. We will tell her that we love her and MISS her. That I wonder, "Can she see us?" "Does she hear us?" "Does she know that I live each day to help others and make her proud?" I will cry a bit, perhaps, because even after seven years, the pain never goes away. Then I will try to remember what I know in my heart- that she is always with me- not a moment passes when she is not present in our lives. That a family’s love reaches far beyond the confines of death. That mothers are always mothers, fathers always fathers, siblings are always siblings, sons always sons, and daughters are always daughters. My children and I will share her story when we are old; about how a little girl lived, and died, but how, even in death, she continued to matter to our world. And without a doubt, when I am 90 years old, I will shed some tears for the little girl who would have been 62 years old. And then I will think about the day when we are reunited again, as the family that should have been, and I will take her hand and we will walk and talk and say all the things I could never say before. And her siblings will one day share a life with their sister that was taken away far too soon… I found this note in a drawer in my ten-year old’s room:
I laughed. I realized that she is still with us all. Through the tears and through the laughter. Each and every day, her memory lives in our family. Families are forever.
Have a gentle holiday season… Joanne
YOU WILL SIMPLY CALL HER MOMOnce upon a time, there was a child ready to be born. The child asked God, “They tell me you are sending me to earth tomorrow, but how am I going to live there being so small and helpless?” God replied, “Among the many angels, I chose one for you. Your angel will be waiting for you and will take care of you.” The child further inquired, “But tell me, here in heaven I don’t have to do anything but sing and smile to be happy.” God said, “Your angel will sing for you and will also smile for you everyday. And you will feel your angel’s love and be very happy.”
 Again the child asked, “And how am I going to be able to understand when people talk to me if I don’t know the language?” God said, “Your angel will tell you the most beautiful and sweet words you will ever hear, and with much patience and care, your angel will teach you how to speak.” “And what am I going to do when I want to talk to you?” God said, “Your angel will place your hands together and will teach you how to pray.” “I’ve heard there are bad men. Who will protect me?” God said, “Your angel will defend you even if it means risking it’s life.” “But I will always be sad because I will not se you anymore.” God said, “Your angel will always talk to you about me and will teach you the way to come back to me, even though I will always be next to you.” At that moment there was much peace in heaven, but the voices from Earth could be heard and the child hurriedly asked, “God, if I am to leave now, please tell me my angel’s name.” “Her name is not important. You will simply call her Mom.” |
