My first daughter, Charlotte Amelia, was born silently into the world on May 13, 2003. Since her birth and death our family has welcomed four living children. Joy and gratitude prevail in our life together, yet my sadness is always with me, tucked alongside the beauty of every day.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
The 13th, Revisited
What do you do on a birthday, when the birthday girl isn't there? So many people have called, good heartedly, in love, and have asked the question that I love to hear but hate to answer: How was your day on Wednesday?
I need to know that you want to know, but I still never know what to say... It was the most beautiful spring day, there were birds and the scent of lilacs hung heavy in our yard. We ate amazing meals full of incredible amounts of comfort calories, we spent almost the whole day outside, we loved each other so much all day long. We laughed together, we made each other cry, we held hands, we planted beautiful things. We collected wildlife, marvelled in the magic of life, and let it go. We baked an amazing dessert, sang to our sister, and then ate without her.
After the children went to bed, I unpacked about 400 sympathy cards from my bedroom storage closet, popped in Charlotte's birth music, and let it all go. A beautiful, appropriate, homing ending to a day that was, for all intents and purposes, as good as could be expected.