Here we are; it’s August again. She would be four tomorrow. Some of my memories of Lucy remain vivid, but most are blurring a bit around the edges. So much has happened in the past four years, and time waits for no one. Lucy’s birthday will come and go without much consequence, which is not only my worst fear, but it’s also just the reality of life. It goes on. I’m finding that I can’t really imagine any longer what she might look like, who she might be… I used to think I could picture her as a child, but now, I can only see the baby she was when I held her in my arms. A newborn baby, forever.

When I get into this headspace, what I feel most is a nagging emptiness. I’m not in pieces and I can always do what needs to be done. That emptiness resides in a space in my soul that’s hollow; it’s lined with love, but mostly it’s a big empty. My daughter is missing from me. Grief runs through a person for a lifetime, like a stream that ebbs and flows with the rain. Sometimes the floods are surprisingly high, as it will be over these next few days, but over the years it’s changed. It simply trickles quietly and steadily through the landscape of our lives. That’s where I’m at now. It isn’t pain I feel any longer, but simply sadness. Though pain and sadness are often intertwined, they are different things. Pain is debilitating; it stops me in my tracks, takes away my breath. Sadness is the ache in that hollow space… maybe accompanied by tears or a longing smile sometimes. I can function quite well in sadness, and I’m comfortable with it. Happiness, joy, humor, contentment, and everything positive floats alongside the sadness, so there are times I even forget about it. Not to worry, it’ll always return; my love for our daughter is too strong, so this sadness will always exist in me.

I could continue saying the same things I’ve said all along- I miss her, I wonder what could have been, it isn’t fair… those things haven’t changed. I will not say it’s gotten easier, but it IS different. I do have moments from time to time when the wound still feels fresh, but they are not all of the time, and they don’t necessarily slow me down. The fact remains that I have a child who died, and that in itself is an assault on one’s soul. No one really completely recovers from that. Those scars are part of who I am, and I accept that. Of course I wish things could be different, but I also realize that I am still so privileged to have carried both of my children. I am blessed to raise our son, who has given me immeasurable joy and restored my purpose. He will grow up knowing his sister in whichever ways I can share with him, and he will know that they are both so completely loved. Lucy will always be part of us, in one way or another.

Happy Birthday a day early, my sweet darling girl. I love and miss you.