Visions of You

Today I had a vision of you, your strawberry-blonde hair and loose curls dangling right above your shoulder. Your four years old now and full of life. As I walk, I see you run ahead of me. You run in a field of flowers, so healthy and so full of life. You look back at me and I run towards you. I pick you up in my arms and we walk off together. The vision is so real I can almost sense your smell and feel you in my arms. I was at the park, once again you were there. You looked the same, so full of life as you body flew through the air on the swing. I pushed you as you yelled “higher”, then, just as quickly as you appeared, you were gone. I seen you today, you were in my car. I looked in my rear view mirror and watched you smile as you looked at me. You had your baby doll and held it tightly and kissed its soft skin. I looked back again, but you were gone. While shopping, you appeared once again. You were running towards the Halloween costumes. I seen you look back at me as you pointed to the costume you wanted. I got close to where you were, and then, in a flash you were gone. I see you every day. I see you not as you were while on this earth, but as you should be. I see you grow as you age. I know you’re not there, but I can’t help but imagine who you would be today. I imagine these visions of you will continue. A painful part of this journey is not knowing who you were, but wondering who you would be today. I will continue to watch as you age, and my visions of you will continue. When I travel this world, you will be where I am. No matter where I go, you will be there. I seen you today, as I sat on the beach. You were sitting on the sand with a bucket as the ocean water ran up and tickled your feet. You looked up at me and smiled.

The Dragonfly

Today, I sit at your grave and weep as usual. Flowers are beautifully arranged in your vase, and decorations sit on your marker in hopes you can see them from Heaven. The days, months, and years continue to pass. Each day brings me one more day closer to joining you again. The loneliness has been haunting me again. Although, surrounded by friends and family, I can’t seem to escape this feeling inside. My heart aches, my tears still flow. The laughter comes then quickly goes. Today is just one of those days in which my pain hurts more. I sit here at your grave, continuing to weep. My hand brushes over your marker as I clean the fresh cut grass off. I take my finger, gently place it on your name, and trace it. Then my finger moves to your teddy bear and gently traces over it. As I trace your name, I cry, thinking of how much I miss you. Your signs have lessened and I feel your presence less. I look up towards Heaven and ask for a sign. I close my eyes, and open them to a tingling sensation on my arm. I look down, to find the most beautiful dragon fly on my arm. I smile, as I begin to cry harder, knowing you answered my prayer. I continue to watch this dragonfly as it gently walks my body. As I watch this dragonfly, I can’t help but think of its symbolism…for it has been told that when a dragonfly is near, a loved one from Heaven has come to visit. I continue to sit at your grave with this dragonfly, never wanting this visit to end.

As Time Goes By

Time continues to move forward, the feel of your presence has lessened, and I find myself continuing to struggle on this new journey. Two years, is hardly considered new when it comes to ordinary time, but when it comes to the loss of your only child, two years is only the beginning. It is the beginning of a life-long journey. A journey that changes not only your life, but the person you were. I find myself posting less, but posting requires energy, and for a grieving parent our energy is utilized by getting out of bed, and trying to maintain what normalcy of life we once had. We are not only emotionally drained, but we are physically drained. People often say that the first year of grief is the hardest and if you can make it through that, then you can make it through. For me, the first year was rough, but I feel as if the second year has been tougher. I am not sure why the second year has been more rough. Perhaps the first year brought shock and numbness which helped me through. Perhaps the support from friends and family carried me through. Both of which are now gone. Please don't interpret this as I feel as if I get no support, because I do. The support I once had, has lessend as people move on as they are suppose to. I have moved on as well, but carry the grief on my back. The loss of my daughter remains with me and has become part of my life, it is my history, yet it is my future. When I look in my past I see my daughter, full of life, full of love, and full of hope. When I look in my future I see what should've been Gabby's future...a future of first day of shcool, first dances, first boyfriends, first prom's,high school and college graduation, marriage, grandkids, and so much more. My hopes have now become my fears. Now childless, I must face my future and my fears. The fear of being alone, the fear of who will take care of me in my older age, and who will Gabby's treasures go to. These fears I have learned are common for those who have lost their only chid. Loving again, after losing Gabby has been hard, but I have begin to learn to love again. Loving people is hard, because it means the risk of losing again. I find myself faced by a wall, a wall of protection, one I placed after losing Gabby. This wall slowly comes down step by step. Some steps I knock down bricks, then other times some bricks may go back up. I'm not sure if the wall will ever come completely down, but each brick I move away is a big step in this journey. Many people have come into my life since losing Gabby and their are many people who I have come to love. I am not sure what my future holds. Perhaps my dream of being a mother again will come true someday. My child may no longer be present on this earth, but it doesn't mean she is not alive. Gabby will live as long as I live and will always be my child and a part of my life. Gabby is and will always be my daughter as I will always be her mother.