She’ll be part of every good day. No matter what. — “The Book of Polly”
I’m not sure what you’re supposed to do on the anniversary of your child’s death. It’s not just another day, and it’s impossible to ignore.
It’s like a great, looming cloud. It feels unsettled sometimes, and you wait for the storm. There should be a massive storm, you think — something that breaks things open and shakes the earth. Something vital was ripped from the deepest part of me, and it needs to be acknowledged.
But there is no Zeus, and I am not God. I don’t control the weather, and I couldn’t cure her disease: acknowledge that, and everything changes.
Sometimes, the answer doesn’t come in words. We lack the language, I think, of a higher truth. So we listen, and we wait. We plan, but we do not control. It’s maddening sometimes, but it’s the best we can do.
On Julianna’s second heaven day, I tried not to overplan. My goal was to see something beautiful and to honor her.
This was my something beautiful:
I honored her by making something sparkly,
and by going to her favorite place
Along the way, there were a few surprises.
A friend (J’s best friend, in fact) shared a memory — this is one of Julianna’s “secrets”
J — My legs can come off.
J’s BFF — Really? What do they do?
J — They’re wild!
And her eyes just sparkled…
And another shared a picture that I forgot existed. Pure treasure.
There were tears — believe me, many of them. But it was a good day.
…And someday, there is going to be a good day that we are all part of. I’m not sure where that is, or what it looks like, but I believe in that day. — “The Book of Polly”