I’ll be doing a lot of birthy posts coming up… knowing that’s why most people would read my blog, but I wanted to send these thoughts out into the ether for now.. while they’re fresh. This is a part of life now, and life isn’t only my wonderful work.
There are so many things I think of daily that I wish I could text to you or call to say really quickly. Sometimes we averaged over ten short calls a day, usually making contact at almost the same time! I loved the jokes too, “get outta my head, girl!” 🙂 I can hear your voicemail greeting so clearly still… I play it in my mind every day in hopes I’ll never forget the sounds, words, pitch. How I love the beginning… ever the cross-breed of jersey girl and southerner, “Hey, y’all… this is Eileen.” More than any grand dream I have or feelings of unfairness, I just wish we could catch up. Share news. Hear your LOUD and sometimes crass words. I want to laugh together. At the very least, in the absence of these dreams, there are things I wish you could know, wish you could hear the words and process them with me on my back porch… things you’d have wanted to know in these recent days… and I share now them simply because I still want you to be here.
Your children are growing so beautifully and look full of love and confidence. You gave them a phenomenal foundation, and that can never be erased. Never, ever my dear. You did so good!! Deep in their hearts, like we talked about in our conversations on the Continuum Concept and Odent’s primal period, they knew from conception until your passing that they were perfectly secure and loved by their amazingly devoted mom. No matter where their lives take them, this imprint you gave them will make them confident little souls who know what feeling right and loved is. So they will always search for that swing back to rightness; to security and love. You did that! I look at pictures of them all the time and can’t wait for the next hug I get from them both. Before they left for their temporary stay with their awesome Aunt Kim and Uncle Wade, your mother in law was so amazingly kind to me and thought to give me the chance to put marley to sleep. I gave him a bottle (the first ever, and I laughed at how you would have rolled your eyes at how confounded I was with the drop-in contraption at first), and your sweet little man petted my hair as he dozed off in my arms. I know we talked to each other with our eyes; I practice this with babies a lot anyway, but he’s a special little egg. He is a sensitive and beautiful boy. I feel like he comforted me that night… saying, “I’m ok, Aunt Carey.” When I let a few tears slide down my cheeks he pulled away from his bottle and touched my face. He never took his eyes away except when his precious little body grew heavy with sleep and his eyelids couldn’t stay open any longer. Autumn was a spunky bug that night and speaks in these amazing sentences with excellent articulation. I hope she’s at least half the talker you were. I loved that about you. She stopped being persnickety about saying my name and freely screamed, “Aunt Carey! Aunt Carey! Aunt Carey!” when I pleaded to hear it just once more. I reminded her she’d made me wait so long to hear it that I had some saved up! She was the center of love and attention and reveling in all her new skills and visitors.
I would want you to know that whenever I’m feeling insecure I hear you say, “Just fake it til you make it, baby! You know you’ve got this!” and it makes me smile with confidence.
I wish I could show you the fun thrift store finds of late and have shared that we finally have a Starbucks in Anderson!
I can imagine that you would have been ALL about the local girls going derby and would have shown everyone the athlete you are– including a rad derby name and a fishnet hose ensemble that would’ve knocked everyone’s socks off.
My girls ask about you and your niece often, wondering when their babysitting gig will finally start! 😉
I’ve been carrying around a Demeter brand spray in lilac; I remember those candle sets we used to buy when we were kids living at Rhonda Rd and how lilac reminded you of your driveway from your youth. I can’t bring myself to wear it — it smells just awful on me!– but I smell it a few times a day since you can’t.
My girls miss you a lot and take turns wearing the flip flops you left here.
Rachel and I had a funny conversation about your purse the other day… what a disorganized version of yours mine looks like. We both always wanted preparation for any need– multiple chapstick flavors, makeup, sunscreen, vitamins, eye drops, smelly oils, things to entertain the kids, snacks… except yours had some magical girl scout esque packing job that I never mastered. Rachel and I both chuckled that you knew the exact location and content of each purse, but that we held secret fears that if we touched it it could possibly just pop from the sheer volume.
I miss worshiping the sun with you this summer. I know you’d have pushed me out the door every few days, insistent I needed my vitamin D! In fact, I’ve mostly avoided the pool because it just isn’t the same without you.
There are so many friend secrets and tidbits you’d only understand that now sit quietly in my heart. Those words and sharings were for us. No one will ever take that place. But, wow, you’d be ready for a looooong chat at all the crazy happenings in the past months. So that I wouldn’t break privacy, we invented code names for clients so you could help me walk through my late night thoughts out loud (since I wouldn’t say I’ve known any others with such a gift for external processing!). Wow, how I miss this! You loved them with me, waited alongside in spirit, and was always a first text sent after birth to say both mother and babe are well!
Everyone who knew you is still grieving… and I am glad your story made it all the way across the pond. You deserved to be known for your life.
Ryan is battling hard; I pray and believe he will make it through to be an old daddy for your babies.
I know there will be other times I want to catch up with you in my psyche… to keep the love alive forever as it should. For now, I know you are at peace, and that part makes me happy. The whole rest of it is tough, but I will count the blessings I do have, and that your babies, ryan, and family do have instead of what we are missing: you.