I'm late writing this years anniversary letter. I typically figure this stuff out in the wee hours of the morning. This year I've been thinking about what to say all day in my head. I was worried about sounding repetitious. You know, the same old, "I miss you" that I sputter every year. But, I am afraid that your letter this year will sound a bit redundant.
I do miss you. Every year that passes I miss you a bit more. I miss what should be, but isn't. My mind this time of year is plagued with memories of your death and I hate it.
It's a bit different for your birthday. I try to remember the moment I became a mother. I remember the smell of my first baby, the sounds you made, and these memories often trump the heart ache that follows.
The anniversary of your death is so vastly different. I remember that day like it just happened two minutes ago. I remember how you smelled those last few hours of your life. I remember your sweet little outfit and how you kept kicking of your shoe at the doctors office. And mostly, I remember the minutes and then seconds leading up to your death.
The flash backs of standing in the hospital hallway are overpowering. I can hear that strangers voice, a doctor, telling me you had left us. I remember standing there, falling to my knees, and the room blurry- nothing else noticeable except the words coming from that mans mouth.
I remember the look on your Daddy's face. Heartbreak. I remember how it felt. A soul changing moment in our lives. In every ones lives.
Sweet baby girl, I miss you. My heart aches that we cannot watch you grow and it rejoices for where you now are. People often say time heals all wounds. And while time surely changes the way we perceive death, your Daddy and I still miss you. We still ache for you. And we still very much wish the circumstances of your life were different.
It's really, really, unfair. It's unfair that your little sister thinks a ladder can bring her to Heaven to play with you. It's unfair that you were born with a body that was against you from the start. It's unfair that we'll never watch you grow old. But life is filled with things I'll never understand. I've come to a point in my faith that God knows more than me. He always has. It's taken me some time to grasp the concept that why I don't understand why you were born with obstacles to overcome- and then subsequently die as a result; I've come to the understanding that it's not my place to know. Now.
I hope that somewhere in Heaven you can hear us talk about you. I hope that you understand that while five years has passed, that we still very much miss and love you. And I long for the day that our family is hole again. Right now, without you, it's always, always, missing an irreplaceable link.
Love you and miss you to the moon and back our sweet, Zoey Faith.