Reflections

When a parent dies, you lose your past. When a child dies, you lose your future.

I reflected on the profoundness of that phrase last Sunday. The weather was nearly perfect and I was able to spend much of the afternoon with Brittany...something that has been very difficult for me to do lately because of this nasty winter. I spread out my Green Bay Packers blanket (I'm an avid fan and Brittany made it for me a few years ago) and brought along my little broom and towel so I could clean off her area and polish her picture. I should explain that I had a large color picture of my daughter placed on her stone so I could see her beautiful face each time I visit. Her blues eyes are particularly brilliant in this photo and when I look at it, I get the overwhelming sensation that she's right there with me, gazing back into my eyes...holding on to me just as tightly as I'm holding on to her. Once everything was perfect, I laid directly on her stone and cradled her picture in my arms. While some people may interpret this as a form of desecration, it is anything but. I am her mother and she is my little girl and this is as close to holding her as I'll ever get again. I feel connected to her there. 

As always, I sobbed...a lot...and whispered in her ear. I told her over and over again how much I miss her and how much I love her. I told her that no matter how much she might want me to be happy...to smile and laugh...I can't. I told her she was wrong thinking I was strong enough to endure this. I rambled on about the unfairness and cruelty of the hand we have been dealt...and then I laid in silence...reflecting: When a parent dies, you lose your past. When a child dies, you lose your future. It cut me like a knife. I was forced to accept the painful reality of the countless things I will never get to share with Brittany. I won't see the elation in her eyes when she gets engaged; I won't share the excitement with her as we sit in a bridal shop trying on outrageously expensive dresses; I won't see my beautiful little girl walk down the aisle into the arms of her Prince Charming; I won't see her experience the miracle of childbirth; and I'll never know the indescribable joy of watching her children grow...little golden hair, blue eyed perfections created by the beauty of my daughter. I have been robbed of all of that...and more.

So as I cradled my little girl in my arms and gently kissed her picture, I closed my eyes and listened to the wind chimes sing softly in the breeze. I could almost hear her voice whisper in my ear, "I love you, Momma." I love you, too pretty girl. Forever and always...