This time of year is so hard. Especially this year. She turned 3.
I have a 3 year old little girl. The little girl who wasn’t quite 1 when her littlest big brother – the step before her – went to Heaven. As she blew out the candles the clock began to tick for me. Three months from now is all I had left after I watched the one before her blow out his candles. I can’t fathom life without the girl who pries our eyes open in the morning whispering in our face, “you wanna build a snow man?” I can’t imagine the messes she makes not being there each night I do my pick up when the kids are all finally in bed. I can’t imagine staring at her bows without her arguing which one she will wear. But really, these are all things I can imagine. These are all things I have lived through. I have lived through the “things” out living the person. It is heartbreaking. I walk around with a new sadness, counting the days. Reliving the days it is all still so fresh. It is the wound that has fresh scar tissue over it being cut open & exposed all over again.
Fall, the season when relief from the hot Texas heat comes, but the relief from the heartache doesn’t. When the trees begin to change, but our life is all still so much the same. When the kids sports seasons come, but there is one who should be playing that isn’t. When we begin to brainstorm costumes – and the last costume he wore is now a symbol of the life I am living – monsterous. When we begin to plan for holidays & make lists & there is always someone missing from ours.
This time of year is hard, painfully hard. An empty hard. If I choose to focus on there here, instead of the there, it would be all too hard. So I keep my focus on what is to be and not what is. She blew out her candles and I wished he was here, but thanked God for the 3 years I have had with each of them.