One Year

One year.

"Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights
In cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.

In five hundred twenty-five thousand
Six hundred minutes
How do you measure
A year in the life?"
                                          -Rent Soundtrack

A year Sara has been in heaven and we've continued here on earth without her. Some days measured in moments, others in miles travelled without her. Not one of those without noticing the lack of her here.

Gratitude pours out for the way she lived...for the way she died. For the story she shared along the way. 

Like most who loved Sara, we've spent the better part of the last twelve months learning to live without the fullness of her in our days. Her laughter, rich and warm, that resonated from deep within her. That smile...even through her pain it took your breath away. The gift of her in our days...a gift that not a one of us would trade for all the riches in the world. 

It's been five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes that I've worked on seeing the world through her eyes even though she's no longer in it. It's a whole lot harder than you'd think. Far easier is it to view it once again through my own. But, in not eyeing it as she would, this place isn't as beautiful. As rich and full and loud.  Sara? She saw our world as a lovely place.

It's been a year of the chicks growing and learning and changing without her beside me through it....I think that is what I've missed most. Her watching along with me. I think, as a mother, you grieve differently when you have children still at home. I don't cry unless I'm alone and when does that ever happen or I cannot be seen. You put their pain before your own. For the last month, I've quietly been measuring the year without her in it. The last this and the last that...breathing and continuing and giving thanks for all that we've had and all we've been given. Days measured in moments...in life...in love. 

 Loving you from here, sweet girl. 

 Always...


Comments

  1. tinuvielSeptember 24, 2012 at 10:30 AM

    My arms are too short to reach you with a hug, but I pray you would be especially aware of our Father's arms around you in your grief. Your name and need have been before him all morning. I love you.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Loving Well

It's as much a part of me as breathing, this friendship she and I have woven together.  In and out, up and down, encircling us. Never ceasing. Never slowing. None of the breaks, skips, or hiccups that usually occur in relationships. Not a one. We came together so seamlessly I don't  remember what my life, my days, my moments felt like without her beside me, even in a figurative sense. I know it sounds odd, the stuff of science fiction movies and creepy music, but our relationship has been like that from the beginning. I wake up when something happens to her or when she dreams and cannot bring herself out of it. She knows when I've hit my bottom and swoops in to scoop me up.   Even our night times overlap. That silly red sports car she drives in the non-waking hours? It shows up for both of us. I tell her geniuses choose green and she laughs. I am thankful to hear it so strong, so clear. Her laughter is the mix of all things beautiful; soft undertones of leaves
Read more

The Power of Words

Before Sara died, she asked me to speak at her wake. She didn't desire that I share with others memories  of  her. Rather, she asked that I speak about who she was in this world. She told me that she wanted people who came  to see her  as I spoke.  She also told me I wasn't allowed to cry. It would, she stated, "Make things less effective."  Love her.   A friend who was present asked that I  ( Shannon )  put it up for all of you, who were unable to join us at the service, to read. .  .  .  .  .  .  . Gail Caldwell wrote:  "It's an old, old story. I had a friend and we shared everything, and then she died and so we shared that too."   Words are powerful. Uniting. They shape our view of the world, ourselves, each other. Words, in the best cases, make us immortal. Words are how I found her. Faith is what brought us together. A friend send me an email, asking me to pray for a mother who knew she was going to lose her baby girl and carried he
Read more

Tuesday's Child is Full of Grace

Eleven years ago you entered our world. Small. Red. Making your voice heard. Three separate due dates: March 4 th (actual), January 28 th (for my health), February 6 th (for yours). On Tuesday, February 8, 2000, you decided you’d join us. At your own pace, in your own time; forty two hours of labor, most of it without great progression. Then from 4 to 10 in a hour and six pushes later, you arrived. I had not allowed myself to fall in love with you. The doctors told me that I carried antibodies that could cause your death if the pregnancy made it to 36 weeks. If . That was the word throughout the weeks you grew and developed. If you made it, if I made it, if my kidneys held out. They told me I wouldn’t get pregnant. I did. At week six they suggested I terminate when bloodwork came back showing more strikes against both of us. I refused. They were wrong. I decided, then and there, that they were wrong. That we’d make it. Together . Those days were not e
Read more