As the day approaches, the sound of sprinklers going off and cars sliding by on the street , I breathe in the sweet richness of cool morning air.
Just beyond the trees, a light orange light illuminates the branches, and there is an expectation, and wonder of what a day may bring.
The glow of the morning, and the hope for the future plays upon my mind.
I’ve been dreading this week, and thinking there was a way that it still might not be true, that somehow there has been a dreadful mistake, and that somewhere, if I were to search hard enough, she would still be here with us.
I’m speaking of my daughter , Bianca Jillian. It will be 1 year ago on September 27th that she breathed her last. Incredible as that fact is, there are many times that I simply just shake my confused head in wonder, thinking there is no possible way that I won’t see her physical self again alive on this earth.
In the past, I have heard others speak about how you move through grief, at times in a dreamlike stake, and that as you mechanically go through the rythym of your day, when you lay down your often aching head at night, you can’t even recall what you did throughout that day.
Truthfully I didn’t believe this phenomenon until I lived it. The intense physicality of it all. How your body tries to protect you from your mind, and your senses become dulled to protect your broken, and continually breaking heart.
I know that she was here. I do…. I can’t fathom where she went. I pass by her room in wonder. Was she really even here, or did I conjure up that fantasy in my head? Will I be in this dazed state forevermore…I can’t know….
Throughout this year many have counseled me. Saying things like, ” don’t make life changing decisions until at least 1 year has passed by.” This seems like sound, and rational advice right?
But now I find myself thinking…how did a year go by? It’s the most bizarre of feelings to think you were just swept along somehow by God’s grace, and carried along by people who loved you. Mind blown experience I can attest to that.
Her grave marker was installed last week sometime. I tried to prepare myself to how it would feel to see ” her name written down in stone,” but there are just really no earthly words I could say to express how your heart rips from your chest to see this tangibly upon the drying grass.
We visited her, my dearly beloved friends and I. We brought a cozy picnic blanket, andpourde so excited “pro secco,” and we toasted our girl..her incredible life. We laid on the picnic blanket with our heads resting upon the cool bronze of her grave, and we cried, and held onto one another.
I put music on my phone and we listened to this song by,Kristene De Marco, and Bethel Music. ” it is well with my soul.” Check it out on” you tube, it’s breathtakingly beautiful. If I could tangibly figure out how to insert it here, then I would.
We stared up into the blue sky, and further tried to squint our eyes to see beyond into the heavens. I was hoping against all odds that I could catch a glimpse of her darling face amongst the clouds. I hoped she would be smiling, and that she was happy, with not one ounce of the deep loneliness that I felt for the wanting to be with her again.
Peoples’ sounds, their smells are so significant to just them. Her laughter, and the sound of her giggle set my heart on fire. I would do anything to achieve that, we all would. Her distinct scent of slightly burned honey, and softness, fills my nostrils.
I still am using the same shampoo that I always washed her hair with…perhaps I always will. They better not ever stop making it. Maybe I should go and buy up cases of the stuff just to be certain?
When I’m showering in the am, and open the bottle, that first scent of her nearly makes me collapse in a heap on the wet tiled enclosure. My eyes flow as I work the soap into a rich lather, and for that briefest of moments I am transcended, and we are touching.
I hear the distant neighing of the horses down the road, and I’m reminded of how much she loved them, and they her. They were always drawn to her…it was just priceless to watch.
There was a soul connection between them of human and beast. It was the coolest things ever to witness. I am convinced that if she were to encounter a mountain lion or a Grizzly in her wheelchair, they would have just come and sat protectively beside her, and not harmed a hair on her darling head.
There was this strange, intangible web of wonder that surrounded her. Jesus was here, and the animals knew it, and they showed respect. Their maker, their creator was in their midst, and time and energy collapsed to a halt, and all was held in reverence as one.
Respect one for the other, and they held each other in high esteem, and though their communication was intangible to me, it was there. The horse would stare lovingly, and with great intrigue into her bright blue eyes, and the bond between them was an inconceivable force of nature. One hears about these kinds of soul connections, but seeing it in the flesh is quite something else.
When a star dies in the darkened night sky does the universe know, or even acknowledge that some of its brightness has dimmed? Is there a sense of wonder that a precious glow has passed into the next realm?
These are the thoughts running through my brain. I don’t want it to be “business as usual,” and I know others that have lost, or are losing a loved one must feel similar to myself.
Life is so unbelievably precious, and even though there are many amongst us who suffer unbelievably to just live, their quality of life hanging in the balance on a daily level, it is a challenge left to us to honor their memories, by living life truly like our life depended on it.
This may seem trite and cliche, but perhaps this is why we feel compelled to make a difference so badly. There is a stark realization that it could have been us. We could have been the one buried. There is a responsibility that comes alongside this knowledge, and should cause us to live and love more fully…holding nothing back.
There are so many examples in Bianca’s life of a little girl who exhibited the courage to live, and to keep on, even when life was hard, and even when it really hurt.
To watch her “pass through the waters” of her seizures, and to stand helplessly beside her while she twitched and moaned, was an excruciating experience. To have her collapse against me afterwards, snuggling her little face into the nook of my arm, was a part of life that I ache for.
Please don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t wish these hellish tortures on anyone of us, but the peace and comfort that was exchanged after these things were over is an experience that I can hardly even fathom.
It us so surprising and indescribable to me that courage came wrapped in the person of my little daughter. How unexpectedly amazing. A little child that taught the grown ups. She is not the first, nor will she be the last to do so.
The unabashed , and innocent heart of a child to just give of themselves, without pride, or thought of consequence is so inspiring.
Our children are the conquerors, make no mistake about it. They play fiercely, love unashamedly, and try without thought of failure, until, usually an adult, breaks flown their courage.
We can learn such important life lessons by really watching and observing the heart of a child. This is strength of spirit at its best. It is so untainted,and I am just now wondering if this is the reason that Jesus chose to enter his earthly life in the form of a fresh, newborn baby?
There has to be a connection here. The Prince of Glory chose to enter life as a newborn on a bed of straw….and yes, he was surrounded by the earthly beasts too.
A pure, and beautiful little child, full of hope and wonder…..how absolutely perfect and unassuming, and just plain remarkable.
Its really too bad we have the age limit of 35 to run for the Oval Office. By this point we are too jaded to truly run the office of the presidency. How much more could be done in the spirit of decency and kindness if a child was the president?… Just let go and think on it for a moment…
Children are our future….we know this. It might be time to really listen to them about what they are seeing in our world. If we listen quietly, and are very fortunate, they will speak to us in wisdom with words that cannot be audibly heard, except in our hearts.
Take the time….you will not be disappointed.