Five Months: Remembering

Five months. Another month gone by without our girl. I’ve been dreading writing this all day today and now I know why. Somehow, most of the day, I was able to stave off the intense grief that these anniversary days and these memories usually inspire, and I was worried that writing tonight would open that door. I was right. As soon as I wrote the first two sentences, I began to cry. The last few days, since Sunday morning, have been hard ones. Days where it’s hard for me to look at her pictures or even think about her without tears. Recalling how much fun we were having this time last year. Mourning over how much fun we should be having this year.

One year ago on this past Sunday, on Columbus Day weekend, we took Hudson to Homestead Farms out in Maryland to pick apples and pumpkins. In the past few days, I’ve seen many friends post Facebook pictures of their kids at the pumpkin patches this past weekend—it’s apparently the right weekend to go. I have just been overwhelmed with longing to post new pictures with Hudson—even though I’d thought about it before, I don’t think it ever really set in until the past few days that I will never get to post a new picture with her again.  I change my profile picture occasionally, but only to old pictures of Hudson.  I’m already thinking about the days when we will post pictures of the new baby—I’ve already wondered, bizarrely, if there might be some way to photoshop Hudson into them. Because she should be there.

On these month anniversaries, I try to just remember a happy memory, not dwell in my grief. Until I actually sat down to write, I thought that would not be much of a problem today. I was wrong.

I need a new phrase for “I miss her.” That is the most inadequate phrase in the English language.  “Heartbroken” gets closer, but still can’t even touch the depth of this grief.

Our trip to Homestead Farms is one of my favorite memories—as I mentioned a few days ago, September and October were when Hudson really started to get fun, to interact and play in different way than before. I look at our pictures from that trip and again am left to wonder how it is possible that that precious creature is no longer here. I am feeling overcome right now, utterly heartbroken looking at my sweet girl’s beautiful smile, heartbroken that these are the only pictures we’ll ever have of our girl with pumpkins. I can’t write anymore. I think I’m going to have to let the pictures do the talking this month—and they speak loudly. Of what a big spirit our little girl was, even at just past 10 months old. Of our intense love for her. Of her love for life.  Of the wonder we created together as a family.