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Tuesday, May 18, 2010


Yesterday was a hard day for me. I would like to plan the memorial for my daughter and Steve and I struggle with how open to make it. I felt that it would be most fair to make it an open "event." To allow anyone to come that wanted to. To have all of these people come together and remember my daughter. I got that picture in my mind, of all these different people, so many people, there at the grave, remembering Alexandra.
I'll admit that I was so stuck on that idea, so stuck on the thought that my angel would look down and see all these people gathered together for her, that I dismissed all other thoughts. Steve is grieving in his own way and he felt it would be best to invite only family. He encouraged me to have another balloon release for those not related to our family. Two separate balloon releases didn't work for me, I wanted one. I wanted my vision to come to fruition. It wasn't that I wanted what I wanted, I wasn't trying to be selfish. I can't explain it exactly, but all these people coming together on the same day, to celebrate Alexandra...This is the only celebration that we will ever have like this for our daughter. It feels important to me to have it be really big and really important, so Alexandra knows how many people she has touched. How many lives she's impacted, how many people pray for her and think about her.
The discussion of this day brought me to such a horrible place. Thinking of all that I was missing out on. I found myself sitting, for the first time, in my daughters room, crying. I looked around at all of her stuff and the tears fell. I thought about how I would never get to use these items, never get to put my baby in her swing. The swing looks so comfortable, I thought she would love it. I will never push her in the stroller, never watch her sleep in the bassinet. None of this stuff was going to happen for me and I let the feelings hit me, as hard as they could, really, for the first time. I realized that I had let the feelings come in little waves up until that point. I had allowed them to come out, only when they overflowed and there was not much else I could do to prevent them. But last night, I just let it hit me. And it hurt so much. And I cried so hard, for the loss of my daughter and the loss of all the dreams I had for her. And today I am still really sensitive, but I feel like, maybe there is a little bit of light. I'm not ready for it yet. I am still content to sit with my grief, in the dark, but maybe, down the road, there is some light for me.

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