Dear Evy:

Hi sweet girl. It’s been another week without you here. Yesterday was All Soul’s Day. A remembrance day for all souls who have died. That’s sweet, but I don’t need a specific day. You are never not on my mind. It’s also a day to pray for all lost souls. I am incredibly lucky that I have never felt the need to pray for you. I know where you are and where your soul rests. You sit in a special place up in heaven with all the other innocent, perfect souls. Last week was the first day when I really forgot that you were no longer here. We were riding in the car and your sister wanted me to ride in the back seat with her. We were playing loudly and an image of you in your carseat popped in my head. I almost said, “Is Evy sleeping?” because I didn’t want to wake you. Almost immediately I felt my heart tear. I’ve never had a moment like that before. How sweet it would be if I could have really checked on you to see if you were sleeping or if our loud playing would have woke you.

Last Sunday we were invited to a remembrance service at Children’s Hospital. We sent in a few lines about your life and the joy you brought to us. Our biggest fear was walking back into the hospital. We didn’t know what emotions and feelings we would have being back at Children’s. Just your daddy, sister and I went. As we were leaving, Ava randomly said that we should bring the Evy Bear. She has never said that and hasn’t brought it up since. Thank you for giving her that little nudge. I was able to hold it the whole time and it kept my hands busy.

The service was really sweet and well done. They listed all the babies and children who had past recently. Each name was said and the parents could place a candle in a memorial stand. They compiled all the sweet messages that each parent wrote about their child. Each message was so sweet, but laced with heartache. I sat in a room full of people who knew exactly what I was feeling because they all felt the same way. It was nice that Children’s offered this service so it felt like some closure. Not just, oh well, your baby died, goodbye. They offer a huge grief support system for almost all circumstances.

The drive up to Children’s was harder than walking in. The chapel is right off the elevator from the parking garage, so we didn’t even have to go into the hospital. We did pass the UDF that was just down the block though. Your dad and I walked to it the day before you died. We needed a break from the hospital walls and some fresh air. I was craving ice cream and your Nan was holding you, so down the block we walked. The service was so great at UDF. A young boy gave us a coupon and we were all smiles as we ate our double dipped cones. Just getting out of the hospital refreshed us.

It was our last happy moment. We never in a million years thought that you would die the next day. As we left the remembrance service, we decided we would do all the hard things that day. We went to the same UDF and got our double dipped ice cream cones. If only we could go back to that day. When you just had a “virus” and we were waiting to hear good news that we could bring you back home. Sweet Evelyn, if only.