One week has passed since I've laid my eyes on her. I almost can't fathom. For nearly five years this little girl was draped over me like a beautiful, vibrant, comforting quilt. And now, in her place, simply peace.
So far my friend grief has stayed at a distance. I can feel him looming; watching. Waiting for the perfect time when just he and I can be alone with one another. I met eyes with him early one morning this week and late last night. But he has been polite. Typically he is not. I am grateful that instead of being invasive during this time he has allowed peace to hold me as I crawl out of bed or look into the mirror. Her arms feel far more like home. Though, they're both familiar.
Grief and peace.
The two things that are wholly mine.
I recognize them. I find comfort in both of them.
I have learned to rest in peace and rest in grief.
Play in peace and play in grief.
Smile in peace and smile in grief.
Mourn in peace and mourn in grief.
Many don't realize that the two can coexist. I feel them almost interacting with one another to complete this entity inside of me that is greater than my own breath. They're palpable. They're nurturing. They're healing.
Grief. And Peace.
One week ago today my girl met Jesus.
Oh to know she's resting.
There's nothing quite like the joy that has overtaken my spirit for my baby.
She endured more than any one person should ever have to endure.
I knew the moment I first looked at her sweet face that she was not created for here. She was meant for so much more. I was honored to be her mom every single day. She made me a better human.
Every day I miss her. The ache is so large I can't quite explain.
But every day I am thankful for the intimate life we shared; she and I, almost as one.
She will always be my baby and the hero of my heart.