We got home yesterday from our Christmas get-away to Florida. We had a really great time. It didn't seem like Christmas in Florida and that was really helpful. It wasn't constantly in my face and people weren't really doing "Christmassy" things so it wasn't as painful as it would have been at home. We didn't have to live up to any expectations and that was freeing. Don't get me wrong there were still moments of the day that were unbearable, times when I couldn't breath. I woke up crying and fell asleep crying, but I would still say it was a good day. Elo woke up and opened presents, and then we were off to Disney! We drove 1.5 hours to be turned around at the gate. The park was full. Elo's heart was broken. We drove back to our hotel and spent the day on the beach. We did eventually make it to Disney and Elo met all of her favorite princesses. She was elated. Daddy said that he teared up to see her so happy.
So now we are home and I am facing the holiday that has me even more anxious than Christmas. New Years. A good friend said to me, "It's hard to say goodbye to a year your child was alive in." That's exactly it. Although this is absolutely the worst year of my life, it was also the best year of my life. You were alive. You lived, breathed, smiled, played, and made us so happy. We made unforgettable memories together. 2016 won't give us that opportunity. There won't be those perfect moments. You will be missing from every memory we make. Again I find myself struggling for control of this situation. I want to stop time, refuse to celebrate. Protest this day and what it represents. But I know that no matter what it will come.
2016 will bring good things. A new baby, joy, and hope. I am excited to see what will happen with Haddie's Calling and the new opportunities it will bring. 2016 will also bring pain. The 1 year anniversary of your death. More things I cannot control and I have to live through.
My fears for this year is that people will start to forget you. That they will think, "They have a new baby, time to move on." They won't ask about you or talk about you. Another friend that I have been writing to back and forth recently said, "So often when people die, it almost seems too painful to talk about them, but I don't think that's good." This is such a true statement. Is it painful to talk about you? Yes sometimes. But it's even more painful to live like you didn't exist, to pretend this didn't happen. My goal in life is to keep you present with us always. To honor you and to help save lives. To make Elo's life the best it can possibly be. As I write this I am watching her finally make her snow angels. She has been asking to make them for months! I wish you here to bundle up and take outside. I would love to laugh while I watch you tried to topple through the snow. I can see you now looking up at the snow as it falls with your quizzical look.
When we got home we found out that our fishy, Mr. Grouper, had jumped out of his tank. I told Elo that he is in heaven with you. So please take care of Mr. Grouper for us.
We love you and miss you every moment of every day.
Love,
Mama
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