August 31, 2008
My Dearest Ella:
Happy Birthday, my darling, and Happy Angel Day. Today is your day, and I wish I could
spend every moment of today in your presence.
Never have I found myself more at a loss for words than when I sit down and try to share
my feelings towards you. I think the reason is because I keep searching for the
perfect words, but even those words could never accomplish what my heart desires most—placing you in my arms again.
I’ve been told by well-meaning people that time would heal the wound created by the
chasm between you and I. In reality, there is a part of me that feels farther
away from you than ever with every passing day. I see you, hear you and feel
you in the moments of my day, every day, from the time I wake up until I finally fall into what is often a troubled night’s
sleep. I miss you with every ounce of my being, and I mourn what could have,
and in my heart, what should have been. I know that is selfish. I know that you are in a place that provides more peace and joy than I could have ever given you. But I miss you. I wish there were a more
eloquent way to say it, but ache to share life with you. I long to hold you and experience my own joy in watching you grow,
seeing you love your daddy, your brothers, your grandma and grandpa, your aunts, uncles and cousins and all the other people
who I know would fuss over you and show you kindness.
It is three years since you came and left us. Had
you been able to stay, we would be so, so busy together right now. You would
be just old enough to understand what a “birthday” really meant, and to revel in the attention and the joy of
the day. We would likely be taking you to your first day of preschool tomorrow,
and you and I would have already spent time together selecting your first outfit, your school supplies, and your very own
backpack. You would officially be old enough to enroll in your first dance class
and be fitted for your first pair of ballet slippers. You might have danced with
mommy’s team and performed to the proud eyes of your parents and your family.
Instead of busying myself with preparation for so many of your “firsts,” I found struggling to find a purpose
for my day yesterday.
So much has happened in the past year. I know
you have been with us every moment of every day, and yet I can’t help but feel that the trials would have been easier
and the triumphs sweeter had we been able to squeeze your hand, tickle your toes, sing you to sleep and even dry your tears
firsthand. I know that we will always be together, but I can’t help but
feel the separation of time and space between us.
We brought you gifts again this year—a pair of first ballet slippers and a dancer’s
keepsake box. I feel as though a part of my heart is inside of the box and left
here for you. Keep it safe until we are together again, just as I am holding
tight to the memory of every single moment we were given together in the hospital.
We love you, we miss you, and we remember you every day. Today is your day.
Happy Birthday, and Happy Angel Day.
Love Now, Forever and Always,
