The Sweetest Thing

My dearest friend IRL, Holly, invited Rob and I to a memorial service at her church tonight. Here is the snippet about it:

The Memorial Service, scheduled for September 30th at 6 pm in the Sanctuary, is for all who have lost children by any means; miscarriage, abortion, stillbirth, SIDS or any other tragedy. This is not meant to be an all encompassing event that will set everything right. It has been my experience that most everyone experiences death differently. This is only meant to help us to begin to or continue to deal with our loss, the death of a child.

Some of the features of this memorial service will include a time for anyone to speak but no one has to speak. Supportive words, videos and Scriptures will be shared by the pastor. We would encourage those who attend to write a letter to their child or grandchild and to place that letter in the box we will have prepared at a time during the service. We will plan to bury the letters in the churchyard somewhere and place a marker there or plant a memorial tree. We plan to have a worship service as we cry out to God to help us heal from our hurts. As the church, we also want to pledge our support to those in pain and to repent for not doing more in the past to help heal the wounds.

If you have experienced this hurt or know anyone in the community who has, please invite them.



I just thought this was the sweetest thing. As her pastor mentioned this last week, we were the first people that she thought of. It touches me that others would think of me - think of ways to help me move on through my bereavement and commemorate my lost babies. People who want to see my life for more than single acts of tragedy. You know how they say friends are a gift you give yourself? Well, this really makes me understand that statement.

I have written two letters, one for each of my angels. I wanted them each to have different letters because they are two distinct children. I didn't want to lump them in one category simply because they both wound up in Heaven. While I wrote the letters, my tears flowed endlessly down my cheeks and onto my keyboard. With each keystroke, another tear would fall. My love and my anguish spilled out of me like lava. How I so miss my babies. I miss the faces I'll never see. I miss the chubby cheeks I'll never get to kiss. I miss the feathery hair I'll never get to run against the pads of my fingertips. I miss the shriek of their laughter that I'll never get to hear. I miss these things so intensely that they feel real. It's as if I've seen it all before somewhere in another life. But I realize it is only in my dreams. They just seem so lifelike. And how I wish they were.

I go about my daily life and each day I grow closer to accepting their losses. I don't cry everyday. I can think of them without becoming a ball of fiery emotion. As a matter of fact, I often picture them happy and smiling, playing lovingly together - looking down on me and Rob, telling us not to be sad. But there will always be two pieces of my heart that are gone. Tonight, I hope I can fill those voids as I pray. If only temporarily.

I would love to share the letters I have written but I feel they should be left private for the moment. I want my children to read the words before I tell the world, even if they already know.

P.S. Because we will be away tonight, I will be posting the Tell Me You Love Me synopsis tomorrow, along with the results of my Happiness Challenge.