Enjoy remembering, in spite of it all

My daughter N (now amazingly, miraculously 4) was out on the back porch, blowing bubbles.

She said to me: "This makes me remember Grace."

"Why?"

"Because they go into the air."

Maybe because of the wind? Maybe because we let the balloons go at the cemetery? Whatever the reason, it's an incredibly precious thing to share with someone else.

Face Mother's Day

"Is she your only?"

The poor woman who asked me this question. She had no idea. I had to pause and recover. And in the split second of processing this, I decided I couldn't handle it. So I didn't answer truthfully; I answered conveniently. We were in the middle of a party, I didn't want to face the followup, the horror, the explanation, I just couldn't.

So I got over the bodyblow of this question and said, "Yes, she [my daughter N] is my only."

But of course, I have two daughters. Only one is alive.

Today is Mother's Day. My dad gives my mother a set of roses every year: 1 pink for her, 3 white for each of her kids, and now a yellow for each grandchild. This year, he included 3 yellows -- one for my daughter, N, one for my amazing niece L, and one for Grace.

That was another one that took the wind out of me, but was a happy one. Makes me love my dad - who has faced so much loss of his own in his life - so much.

Release balloons

I saw this idea on the SHARE site as I was frantically trying to figure out what a service for a baby might possibly look like. I had no clue...


But this, I knew we needed to do - release balloons in memory of Grace.

So we've released balloons for Grace 3 times so far:
at her burial,
at 6 months,
... and at the year mark, this past November 2008.

It's one of those concrete things that we can see, touch, feel.

And we probably wouldn't have done it if we didn't have a 3 year old to placate.

Originally it was a way to make her feel a part of the experience. But, on the day of the funeral itself, it was a joyous moment for us in an otherwise devestating day.

For the funeral, we brought many balloons, and the children there (and there were a few) released balloons.

My friend N, who had lost her son to a cord accident 8 years earlier and was a huge support to us in the aftermath, also released a balloon for her son E.

We hugged and cried and let our balloons float off into the sky together.

This experience means that our daughter, N, thinks that cemeteries are beautiful, wonderous, celebratory places where people remember loved ones with trinkets, flowers, and treasures.