The in-between
I have to admit that some times, I truly fantasize about death. Not because I'm morbid or suicidal. Not because I truly want to be, but because I'm only half...or maybe three quarters here on earth.
I fantasize about who I'll see first. Jesus? My grandparents? Friends? Or will I see my daughters. Will I care? Because if I'm being honest here, I feel like I'd push all the above to the side to get a clear look at my girls. I know, as a Christian, that's horrible. I know there should be no one more important than Christ. But to just get a look at my daughters. To feel them and talk to them and look into their eyes. Wow. I can't wait. I have a lot of living to do. For Christ, for myself and for my living children. But I seriously can't wait.
I have to say that one of the things that crushes me about non-believers, is that they believe when their loved ones die, their gone. forever. Period. Never, ever will they see them again. I can't imagine a loss like that. I believe I will see Jorai and Selah again. I believe I'll see my Grandparents and Jeff and Susan and everyone else again. I have lost them for a little while, or really what seems like an eternity...but I do know that I WILL see them again. I seriously think, if I didn't believe that, I would never have made it out of the darkness alive. I would have drowned.
Five years ago today, nearly at this moment, I was trying desperately to rouse my dead little girl within me. I already knew she was gone. In my mind and soul, I knew. But my heart. My heart wouldn't believe. So I drank juice and soda. I took a hot shower and laid on my side. Poking and prodding my stomach. But there was only stillness.
I feel like these days have turned into a movie I can't shut off. Life happens. You remember some, forget some and in the end, you just live. But a loss like this, it happens like a slow motion movie. And it embeds in your mind like writing in wet concrete. Every moment. Every decision. Every second is there. Every excruciating second. And you can't shut it off. It's just there, playing in the background, waiting for you to realize it's there. Haunting you in a sense.
Some people don't understand why we celebrate the births of our daughters. Really, is it something we should be celebrating? It was a horror movie played out in our lives...why are we celebrating it? Why not sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened?
June 3rd and December 21st are times in our lives that are painful, yet beautiful. Our loss is profound. The emptiness that was left behind after the loss of our daughters will forever be reverberating and deafening. Yet, their lives were untouched by this world. They were needed for a higher calling. They are still with us, waiting for us. They're still our daughters. Still the boys sisters. They are still loved and missed and wanted. I still carried them and held them and kissed them. We still mourn and love them from a far.
Five years ago on June 3rd, I lived through one of the darkest times of my life, yet held one of the most brightest gifts I've ever received. Though I never wanted to let her go, she was never mine to keep. And I know that one day, we will be together again. For that, I celebrate her brief life on earth and the promise that one day, the emptiness that was created when two little girls were torn from my arms, will be filled with such joy and love that I'll finally be speechless.
Jorai,
You were so wanted. So loved. You were beautiful and long. Wow, you would have been tall. Your fingers were so delicate, yet long as well. I know you would have played piano! Your lips were dainty and bright. Your cheeks were kissable. I look at your pictures now and see that you were a perfect mix of both of your brothers. I see them both in your beautiful face.
You have touched us in a way no other has before. You have changed us and for that, I thank you. I thank God for the brief time we had with you. I thank Him for being able to held you and kiss you. I miss you. I just miss you so much. We're happy down here. The boys keep us busy and our lives are filled with laughter. Something I didn't think was possible five years ago. Our house vibrates with laughter and love. Yet, your missed. Your presence and laughter are missed. I can't wait to give you all the hugs I've missed giving you these past five years. You are always in my thoughts and always in my heart. I love you sweet girl.
~Mama
I fantasize about who I'll see first. Jesus? My grandparents? Friends? Or will I see my daughters. Will I care? Because if I'm being honest here, I feel like I'd push all the above to the side to get a clear look at my girls. I know, as a Christian, that's horrible. I know there should be no one more important than Christ. But to just get a look at my daughters. To feel them and talk to them and look into their eyes. Wow. I can't wait. I have a lot of living to do. For Christ, for myself and for my living children. But I seriously can't wait.
I have to say that one of the things that crushes me about non-believers, is that they believe when their loved ones die, their gone. forever. Period. Never, ever will they see them again. I can't imagine a loss like that. I believe I will see Jorai and Selah again. I believe I'll see my Grandparents and Jeff and Susan and everyone else again. I have lost them for a little while, or really what seems like an eternity...but I do know that I WILL see them again. I seriously think, if I didn't believe that, I would never have made it out of the darkness alive. I would have drowned.
Five years ago today, nearly at this moment, I was trying desperately to rouse my dead little girl within me. I already knew she was gone. In my mind and soul, I knew. But my heart. My heart wouldn't believe. So I drank juice and soda. I took a hot shower and laid on my side. Poking and prodding my stomach. But there was only stillness.
I feel like these days have turned into a movie I can't shut off. Life happens. You remember some, forget some and in the end, you just live. But a loss like this, it happens like a slow motion movie. And it embeds in your mind like writing in wet concrete. Every moment. Every decision. Every second is there. Every excruciating second. And you can't shut it off. It's just there, playing in the background, waiting for you to realize it's there. Haunting you in a sense.
Some people don't understand why we celebrate the births of our daughters. Really, is it something we should be celebrating? It was a horror movie played out in our lives...why are we celebrating it? Why not sweep it under the rug and pretend it never happened?
June 3rd and December 21st are times in our lives that are painful, yet beautiful. Our loss is profound. The emptiness that was left behind after the loss of our daughters will forever be reverberating and deafening. Yet, their lives were untouched by this world. They were needed for a higher calling. They are still with us, waiting for us. They're still our daughters. Still the boys sisters. They are still loved and missed and wanted. I still carried them and held them and kissed them. We still mourn and love them from a far.
Five years ago on June 3rd, I lived through one of the darkest times of my life, yet held one of the most brightest gifts I've ever received. Though I never wanted to let her go, she was never mine to keep. And I know that one day, we will be together again. For that, I celebrate her brief life on earth and the promise that one day, the emptiness that was created when two little girls were torn from my arms, will be filled with such joy and love that I'll finally be speechless.
Jorai,
You were so wanted. So loved. You were beautiful and long. Wow, you would have been tall. Your fingers were so delicate, yet long as well. I know you would have played piano! Your lips were dainty and bright. Your cheeks were kissable. I look at your pictures now and see that you were a perfect mix of both of your brothers. I see them both in your beautiful face.
You have touched us in a way no other has before. You have changed us and for that, I thank you. I thank God for the brief time we had with you. I thank Him for being able to held you and kiss you. I miss you. I just miss you so much. We're happy down here. The boys keep us busy and our lives are filled with laughter. Something I didn't think was possible five years ago. Our house vibrates with laughter and love. Yet, your missed. Your presence and laughter are missed. I can't wait to give you all the hugs I've missed giving you these past five years. You are always in my thoughts and always in my heart. I love you sweet girl.
~Mama
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