Dear God,
One week from tonight is Christmas Eve, the night of celebrating the birth of Your Son. In four days, I will light a candle to remember the loss of my baby girl. Admittedly, the grief is not as consuming and I am able to face the holidays with a renewed sense of celebration but I would be lying if I said there still isn't a place inside my heart that aches from her loss. She would be turning two this next July and I sometimes close my eyes and wonder what she would look like? Would she have dark brown hair and green eyes like me? Or would she have baby fine blonde hair and brown eyes like her dad and two of her older half brothers? Would she be a tough and feisty tomboy like her sister Cheyenne? Or would she be a prim and proper little lady?
Dear God, my heart still hurts because she is gone. I hurt knowing that I will never hear her say "I love you, Momma." or be able to teach her how to pray. I hurt that there will never be pictures on my refrigerator from her or handmade cards at the holidays. I hurt that I will never see her open her presents on Christmas morning and listen to her delightful squeals at the sight of the surprises inside. I hurt that I will never see her chest slowly rise and fall as she lays her little head on her pillow at night to sleep. I know, dear God, that she is in the best possible care and hands that she could possibly be in. And I know that one day I will see her and be her Momma in a way I couldn't be here. But I still hurt...I still weep....I still mourn.....I thought that by this time, the mourning would have ceased. But then I wonder if it ever really does?
No comments:
Post a Comment