Sweet Evelyn, I miss you. Being away for a few days was nice, but to say we “forgot” would be impossible. We were able to have conversations about you, but stayed so busy we didn’t have time to cry. When we arrived home yesterday, it was a deep, painstaking reality of your memory. Cards, flowers and food still line our countertops. We LOVE all the community support, but in reality, the reason we have all of this kind of support is because you are gone.
Our vacations we had planned for this summer are hard to think about, because you were apart of those plans. We cringed to think how you were going to do in the car with your sister for an 8 hour drive. We would gladly take those 8 hours of uncertainty now. I still have open tabs on my laptop for our trip to Michigan. I was in the process of booking hotels before you became sick. Room Reservations: 2 Adults 2 Kids.
All the distractions and mini vacations are great, but reality is always waiting. The truth that you aren’t going to be here physically with me is heart breaking. Imagining you in Heaven is the only thing that really brings a smile to my face when thinking about your death. Uncle Rocky’s poem makes me think of Jesus tucking you in at night. You have no idea how much comfort that image brings me.
One new image came this week from two different people. A new family that has been helping us so much through our grieving process sent me a text message of their son’s conversation. They too lost their daughter at only 4 months.
Noah [their son] asked me what I think Ellie is doing tonight. I said probably watching you swim. He said what do you think she does all day? He says, “Play with her angel friends like Evy?”
A day later when we came home from our mini vacation, we had cards waiting. A little pocket poem was in one of the cards. The first paragraph was all I was able to read:
There’s a corner up in Heaven, where the little babies play,
and our Blessed Mother watches all throughout the live-long day.
They’re a happy lot, these babies; sure the reason’s very plain,
for they’ve missed the world’s contagion; came unscathed without its pain.
What wonderful images to keep me smiling. I can only imagine you kicking your legs and flinging your arms like you do when you would get so excited. The images do not replace the thought of you really being with me, but they do help. If we didn’t have all the wonderful community to take the time to send us little poems, their thoughts, their kind words, then I wouldn’t have these wonderful images.
Love you Evelyn, sleep tight.