grieving with guinever

Approaching the six month anniversary of my daughter’s death was the hardest time for me up until that point. (Springtime was even harder six months later) Days kept turning into weeks which turned into months. I imagined that six months would turn into a year and the days would keep on passing until the time without her would be longer than the time we had with her. That thought was unbearable. Almost as horrible as her death itself.

I have not yet reached the 2 year anniversary of her death or what would have been her fourth birthday. And we are not yet longer without her than what we had her. That day is quickly approaching.

But another milestone has come and passed. My second daughter is now older than Abby ever was. I have a blonde, delightful toddler girl again.

Twenty-one months ago, death took my sweet baby girl away. Then I wrote these words six months later:

hair like hers
wispy and blonde
I see a girl with her mother
alive
I used to have a girl like that
but now she is vanished . . .

As I contemplate these words, I realize that I have a girl like that again. It has been both strange and wonderful to have our baby girl Mary blossom from infant to little girl. Strange because Abby is gone. Wonderful because Mary is present with us. Strange because they’re so much alike. Wonderful because they’re so different. Sisters. Mary will not remember her sister, but she can identify her in pictures. Sometimes when Mary sees herself in a picture, she says, “Abby.”

I read a Christmas letter from some friends and they have a girl the same age as Abby. I laughed as I read the news from the family until I came to the part about this particular daughter. Then I burst into tears. So much we have lost. We remember Abby as 2, but she should be here with us now and be nearly 4 and I’m reminded again of what I wrote many months ago.

I’m glad that she’s alive
alive alive alive
God is holding her
He’s holding me
separate we are now
but we will be reunited