I can’t stand not having you here. I feel incomplete. I go from wanting to do an activity that I think will make me have happy thoughts of you to everything feeling pointless. I wanted to start working on the vegetable garden and your memorial garden, to at least designate the space and maybe determine the perimeter. I want to get it ready for our friends and family to come over and help make it a special place that gives all us happy memories of you. I thought I was ready and could do it. We went to Lowes, bought a few tools and then…I just couldn’t. Instead your dad worked on aerating the soil. I gave up.
You’ve been gone for a month and to me it feels like forever.
For being non-verbal you certainly had a loud presence. Your music toys and I miss you. I’m one of those rare parents that was never bothered by all the toy sounds, even the most annoying ones. I often go into your bedroom and hit a button on your bandstand or dancing robot just to make it feel more lively around here. Your brother thinks I’m a little strange when I go off and play with your toys, but he eventually comes along and joins in. It’s when I cry that he gets confused and asks why the toys are making me sad. I try not to let him see my cry all the time, but that’s sometimes hard. Bedtime is usually the worse.
Sage may have to sleep in momma and dadda’s bed till he goes off to college, and even then I’m not making any promises. The good news is he’s not complaining about it and neither is daddy. I think we both know how comforting and secure it feels to have our now only baby safe between us.
Tonight I’m left thinking about what it was like this day five years ago when you were so peacefully resting in my tummy. I was so stressed. No one knew what has going to happen to you, but they prepared us for the worse and yet we left the hospital together four days after you were born. As we walked out of that hospital we told ourselves there was no turning back. You were perfect for us just the way you were and all we ever wanted to do was make you the happiest little girl on earth.
Every night it gets a little harder to believe that your not coming back. This is my process. It hurts and then it hurts some more.
I miss you so much, Livy. If I could kiss your hand another hundred times like I did that last night at the hospital I would.