My days begin pretty much the same everyday. My three year old cries for me to comfort her in the morning, which in turn wakes up my seven month old. Or my seventh month old decides to make the smallest of noises which my toddler is somehow able to hear. Grudgingly I wake up to face a new day with my two beautiful girls. To make pancakes, cure boo boo's, and play pretend to their hearts content. And all the while this is happening, my oldest little munchkin, my forever baby is going to make four years as an angel this upcoming Saturday. So, as I go along my days trying to be a caring, loving, and responsive mommy, I also go along my days thinking about the love I have lost.
As I think about the 2 1/2 months she spent in the hospital, I can't seem to move past the pain and loneliness (although we were by her side for most of her life) and the confusion she must have experienced. The pain is the hardest part. I would rub her little hands and her little feet and I have even kissed her sweet tears, but how will I ever know if she knew, I mean really knew, that I loved her and that I was trying to help fix her. In her videos she looks so lost...
We always thought we would have an opportunity to make things up to her. To make her the happiest little girl in the world. We always thought we would have the chance to see her smile and take away the pain. But, cruelly that was not meant to be. A part of me hates to admit that maybe it was for the best. By that point she had been sick for so long and had so many issues, there was a high probability that her quality of life would have been poor. I remember telling her to let go if she was too tired to go on. She must have heard me.
I love and miss that little girl everyday of my life. I pour that love into everything I do with her sisters. In so many ways they remind me of her. Their happiness and the memory of my angel make life worth living.
