Dear Nora...A Year Ago Today

December 30, 2013

Dear Sweet Nora,

A year ago today, I held you in my arms for the first and last time.  Your dad and I got to meet you and we were oh so excited to do so.  Unfortunately, the way we met and laid eyes on you for the first time was not the way we had planned, because as you know sweet baby girl, you were born still, sleeping for eternity. 

Oh, how I wish I could have seen your eyes open and hear what I only imagine would have been a beautiful little scream.  To watch you wiggle and giggle and to be able to snuggle with you would have meant the world to me and your dad.  Instead we held you only for a brief moment in time.  But baby girl I want you to know that even though the moment was fleeting, we showed you off to family and showered you with all the love we could.  As your grandmother Henke said, “We made a lifetime of memories in only a moment.” 

And we did baby girl, because Nora a year has passed since I held your tiny body in my arms, but the amazing thing is the world, the universe, human kindness has showed me the power of your love.  It’s as if all the love that your dad and I held for you has made its way back to us through others.  The day you died little girl, I feared that love would die with you.  But oh how you have proved us wrong.  I don’t know why, but when we said goodbye to you seven days later at your funeral, I stood in front of a room full of our family and friends and said, “She was pure love.” And Nora, that is what you always were and forever will be, and today, once again you prove this to be true.  

You see sweet baby girl (or should I call you big girl, you would have been one. Thinking about that only makes me sad.) But, today I cry not just because I am missing you, but because I am overwhelmed by the compassion, beauty, and grace that your small presence in the world has touched me with through the wonder on humanity. Love is all around your dad and I today, it’s as if we are swimming in it. It’s strange really, so much love radiating from someone who is not here.  It’s astonishing and proof to me that your energy exists somewhere. 

As I close this letter to you today honey, I want you to know it might be my last.  I hold a space for you in my heart, but I don’t believe I need letters anymore to connect with you, to feel you.  I talk to you in my mind and I believe now, that is enough.  It’s almost more personal, more real.  It’s the relationship you and I have created, and it works. 

So honey, I am not saying goodbye in words, but only on paper. Today, I have started the process of boxing up your things, making space for your baby sibling to take residency in your room after a year of preserving it for you.  Please know honey that this does not mean my heart is closed to you, it really only means that I don’t need the pen, the paper, the trinkets, and mementos to know you were here and are here. For me, you LIVE not in things or words, but on the whisper of the summer’s breeze brushing my cheeks, the way your father looks at me across a room, the sunbeam or starlight that illuminates the sky, or the bird that visits me when I think of you.  That is where you LIVE now sweetie, in the space between dreams and awake, in the moments of everyday beauty and joy, that is where I find you and that is where we will meet again and again each day. 

I love you sweet baby girl. Nora you have taught me so much.  I still wish you were here and I will every day of my life. If I could change it all I would.  But know this; I feel your love because honey, you are the greatest gift of all.  You are pure love.

Love Always & Forever,

Mom