30 Days of Thanks—Day #12

I am grateful for all the readers of this blog (and others, too) who have told me at some time or another that either Hudson’s story has had a significant impact on their lives or that through my blog, they feel like they actually know Hudson, even though they have never met her.

I’ve said it many, many times, but I’ll say it again now: the only (and I mean, the only) real consolation I have in the wake of Hudson’s death is knowing that her life still has meaning, that even though she is gone, she is still having an impact on the world. So when I hear people’s stories about how she has changed the way they relate to their children or to someone else in their families or to their lives in general, or that her story and my grief have allowed them to access or process some loss of their own, I am comforted.

And to hear that people feel like they’ve come to know Hudson from reading here… well, I can’t really even explain how much that means to me. One online friend recently told me this (and I REALLY hope she doesn’t mind me sharing, but this just touched me so much):

I have been reading your blog for a while and I want to tell you that the way you write your daughter’s story, I have such a sense of knowing her. In fact-- and I hope this isn’t totally weird to hear-- I have twice had the experience of seeing a toddler and being struck by the thought, “That reminds me of Hudson!” Hudson, who I of course never met, but who has touched me so, so deeply, I can’t even explain it. You have given many people the gift of knowing just a smidgen of her beautiful little self, but that smidgen is really something, mama.

It’s hard to describe why this is so important to me. I’ve been sitting here for five minutes trying to put it into words. Certainly, there is an aspect of it that has to do with Hudson’s siblings—I can only hope that over the course of their young lives, I will do as good a job helping them know Hudson as I have done here, but in a way that does not make them feel overshadowed by her. And when they are old enough, hopefully they will come to know her (and me) even more by reading here. But I guess it’s more just knowing that Hudson’s spirit is out in the world in that particular way—I don’t know… there is just something really special about that. I guess I fear that as time goes on, as Ed and I have more children, that Hudson will fade into the background for everyone except us, and I never want her to be forgotten. Never. Ever.

So thank you, readers, for sharing these stories of how Hudson’s story has affected you and how her little spirit keeps living in your corner of the world. It honestly just means more than I can say.

(And to the many, many of you who have sent me personal messages on Facebook and email in the last few weeks, I am so grateful for those messages. I am really working hard on responding, and I’m sorry that it’s taking me so long.)