Still

I still speak to you every day, multiple times a day, and I still (often) pray that you will come home. That this was all a bad dream.

I still have your shoes by the door. Your cups in the cabinet. I still cannot bear to part with the half eaten box of butterfly pasta that was your favorite. Your play room still begs to be played in; a frozen moment in time I long to return to.

I still turn on your light every day when I get home from work and I tell you “mommy’s home” and I still turn on your turtle stars each night before blowing you a kiss goodnight.

I still don’t know how to live without you. I still don’t want to try. I still don’t understand and I still cannot believe this is real.

I still search for you in everything.

I am still your mommy. You are still my precious girl. I still know that you are the best thing that ever happened to me and that you made me whole.

I still love you. I still miss you. I still absolutely ache for you and I still wish my life away to be with you again.

Earth and Heaven. Then and now. Life and loss. Love and grief. You and me.

Still.

And forever.

3 thoughts on “Still”

  1. On March 25th it will be 7 years since my daughter has been gone. My tears do not come as often. She died from complications of a heart transplant. I have a Facebook page in her honor called “Alyssa’s Handmades” where I crochet hats for heart children. It makes me feel less guilty. I do have 3 other children, but that does not make it easier in so many ways. “Don’t complain about life….at least your not dead like your sister” It makes it tough to have close relationships with them and therefore more guilt. My youngest daughter was just married….I actually thought for one very tiny small second “At least Alyssa is gone because weddings are so expensive…….” I shake my head. Wow.

    My daughter was 22. She had her heart transplant when she was 12. I read and follow your story about your Kate. I feel guilty that I had 18 more years with Alyssa. That humbles me. But the pain will always be there. My youngest daughter turns 23 on January 19th. She is Alyssa’s younger sister. But now she will be older. That’s a tough one for me.

    I have written you before on your Facebook page. “Cold Play” happens to be something very special too me also. “I Will Fix You” was a huge hit when Alyssa was dying. 7 years later and I still can’t make it to the end of that song without crying. And by that I mean gut wrenching, fall to my knees I can’t breathe crying. I wish I knew what to say to you and help you hurt less. But if I did I would wonder why I had not said it to myself first. I just know the comforting words not everyone knows to say, if they say anything anymore. “I hear you” “I understand” “Cry” “Hold on to your husband” “Keep her room and playroom the same for as long as you need too” “Don’t throw the pasta away” And the one I still can’t say to myself………..”Don’t hold onto the guilt for too long”

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