16 Years...

Another year has passed and Time continues to taunt me as it slowly lurks forward while cautiously holding back. So much has changed, yet stayed the same...with the good and the bad often intertwined.

Since my last letter to you, Time allowed me to experience my only Bucket List wish - to witness the Alaskan Northern Lights! Bill, Aunt Karin, and Uncle Mike shared in my dream and we had a wonderful trip - although said Time was somewhat marred by Bill’s Parkinson’s and Lewy Body symptoms. But the lights gave us a spectacular show on our two nights in Fairbanks, and we had the flight of a lifetime on a Cessna sightseeing tour in Anchorage! Many beautiful memories amongst the challenges. And now, thankfully, medication has been helping us all enjoy more Time together, Time...sprinkled with a little Grace.

Then, a few months later, Time held still as Bill’s mom Helen lost her short earthly battle. She enjoyed a long and happy life and we miss her. I hope that you were one of the many who welcomed her to Heaven. I’m sure you’ll love her as much as we did, and I imagine that she and Oma will have lots to share.

And Time just burdened us with more heartache with the passing of "Aunt Sandi". Oh how she loved you...as you did her. The love, support, friendship, and help that she gave us before, during, and after your journey will never be forgotten. She was such a special soul and I have no doubt that this was a joyous reunion for you both. She will be missed by many here who loved her...

But Time certainly did move forward with Joy as little Rocco, who spent so much Time with you during the first two years of his life, graduated high school! He will be attending YSU and living on campus this Fall! You would be so proud of him and his little brother Trent! And speaking of pride, you would be beaming over Jack and Amelia! Now 13 and 10, they have already accomplished so much in life. They are kind, loving, and intelligent - just really wonderful kids! I am so proud of them. I hope that Time will be good to all of our youngsters, and help them fulfill their dreams.

And me? Well, Time decided to repeat itself and gave me Cancer. Round 2. Treatment will be starting soon and I pray that more Time is in my future. I know that we've had discussions about being ready to join you, but maybe…not just yet. Yes Jess. I am tired. There are moments when I just want to give in and rest... And yes, I know that I still get tangled up in all of my heartache, and I struggle to separate from Grief. But lately, somehow, I’ve actually been noticing that Time keeps giving us tiny reminders, reminders to encourage us to live in the moment, and fully enjoy each one that we’re blessed with. We all need to stop wasting Time, and wishing it away. We need to embrace all Time, and perhaps quietly pray for it to stay a little longer.

But now, all of my prayers for Strength, Healing, and Time are pouring over Stefanie and Adam. Time has paused itself on a barbed dagger as they begin to navigate Adam’s cancer journey. I believe that they will come through this stronger than ever, and if you, God, and the family have any power to watch over them, I know that you will. I am hopeful that they will be given a bright future once this chapter of Time has closed. 

God…how I miss you. I miss our talks, your blunt advice and the hugs that you reluctantly gave (LOL), the moments where we were just together, and most of all...your smile... How I wish that Time had been kinder by sharing more of itself with you. You deserved that and so much more. You deserved to live a full life, to share in our joy, and weep through our sorrows. And we all deserved to bask in your Love, Comfort, and Kindness - especially as we maneuver through the difficulties of Life...

I am thankful for the time we were given

whilst cursing the time we had stolen. 

-Afterevalyn

Until next Time...

Good night Miss Jessica.
I love you. Always.

If your path demands you to walk through hell,

walk as if you own the place.

- anonymous

15 Years...

If it were anything other than death, 15 years would most certainly warrant a grand celebration. Instead, it only reinforces the heartache and disbelief that’s been present since you left.

But here we are. Another year without you.

Little has changed, including the wonder of how life could have…should have been...

And as the days pass by, I keep reminding myself to live, and enjoy life as it is, with all that I have and am grateful for. I know full well that my time is becoming more precious, and that I still have much to do before I see you again. And I strive to emulate how you kept pushing forward, while showing us patience, grace, kindness, and love.

God…how I miss you…

You don’t get over it, you just get through it.

You don’t get by it, because you can’t get around it.

It doesn’t get better, it just gets different.

Everyday…grief puts on a new face.

-Wendy Feireisen

(Grieving Mothers)

Good night Miss Jessica.
I love you. Always.

If you’re going through hell, keep going.

-Winston Churchill

14 Years...

Life should be so different.

It should be full of love and happiness.
It should be all that we wished for when we were young.
It should be spent with you, here with us.

So many hopes vanish with our child when they are taken from us...
So many dreams are buried with them...
So much love that became lost, remains captive in our hearts…
Sometimes that unhealed wound needs to be disturbed so the pain can be released.
Sometimes that pain is the only thing that can pierce the emptiness, the void, the ongoing grief.

Yes. I have so much to be thankful for. And I am. God has been good to me in many ways, and I am grateful for all that I have been blessed with.

And yes, time does pass. It may not heal, but it moves forward; always giving hope for better days.

Life is a little different now Jessica. I have retired from the workforce. And I am hoping for more joys in life, joys that can actually be felt - perhaps releasing the power that can remove this ironclad mask. And, if this could take place, maybe…hopefully... many of those agonizing moments of your final weeks, can finally find peace in my tormented soul.

You know Jessica, perhaps I am still young at heart, even though each letter to you adds to my years. And yet, as that number increases, I can't help but feel that my work is still not done; and as much as I hope to stay on this earth until it is, I am also at peace for our eventual reunion. And when that day does come, may God allow those who remain to think of us with love as they mourn, yet rejoice in His decision; for then, so much that had been lost, will be found again.

Fourteen years.

How...how have I survived?

"Everyone is afraid of dying, until you lose a child...

then you're afraid of living."

-Taken from Many Phases And Faces Of A Mother's Grief

Good night Miss Jessica.

I love you. Always.

"And no matter what anybody says about grief and about time healing all wounds, the truth is, there are certain sorrows that never fade away until the heart stops beating and the last breath is taken." 

-Tiffanie DeBartolo

13 years...

Today's message is not as impactful as others may have been. And as I read through the years, I find that to this date, I have failed in delivering your story. But, a journal of gratitude was born this year; a daily reminder of all that I have in my life, all of which I am both thankful and grateful for. I’d like to share yesterday, July 7:

I am grateful for the honor of caring for my loved ones after their passing. Especially for my daughter Jessica. And today, fresh flowers and trinkets of love were placed on her grave on a beautiful afternoon at Tod. The white billowing clouds filled the sky while a warm breeze floated around me. Yet through the peace, I found it difficult to hold back the tears that struggled to be set free. This surely isn’t how I imagined my life. She shouldn’t have had to leave us. So many questions still, in the midst of never ending heartache. But God writes our story, and I am asked to accept what is given. And as painful as it is...I do. So yes. I am truly grateful, and blessed, to be part of this sacred honor.

And now there's today. Your anniversary of 13 years. Tell me - did our nightmare take place yesterday, or a lifetime ago? My heart often battles with my mind when asked. It’s so hard to grasp that it’s yet one more year without your beautiful smile, your kind and loving soul, your amazing outlook on life. I miss so many things about you, and time hasn't found a way to ease that pain. But I continue to move forward with every day that I’m granted, because I know that is what you wanted, and one day, when it is my time, my heart will smile again.

Until then, good night Miss Jessica.
I love you. Always.

"When we die," asked Rabbit, "where do we go?"

"Into the hearts of those who have loved us most," said Bear.

"That way we're together forever."

-T. Shannon

Twelve...

Every anniversary is difficult; this one is no exception. And every year as it appears, I write with the intent to be positive about life, because good does exist, although my heart begs to differ. 

Twelve.
How can it be twelve years since you left us? How can it still feel like yesterday as well as a lifetime ago? How is it that the void still consumes my entire being?

Much of life has remained the same this past year, yet change has surely evolved. We've all learned to adjust to survive the pandemic, but the world is still divided on so many issues, both political and humanitarian. The children are growing and thriving, despite the months of upheaval. And through it all, everyone here on earth has been doing their best to reclaim what feels normal.

Normal.  What is normal? The heartache that never rests? The dreams that will never see life? The future that will never come to be...

My thought of late was to bring closure to this site, along with it's ever present sorrow. But your Aunt Karin encouraged me to continue, if only for your anniversary tribute. Within this conversation to move onward, a new purpose in life emerged for me. I know it won't come easily, quickly, or without difficulty, but it's time to tell the full story. Your story. Yours - where future generations can learn about love, strength, and fortitude. About how their Jessica never gave up, even in her darkest days, and how her courageous smile always helped those around her feel at ease. How she never gave up hope...and refused to let us do so. Yes Jessica. You are, and always have been, an inspiration - and it never shined brighter than when you struggled the most...and I will do my best to make you proud as I show the world what a precious treasure it lost.

Good night Miss Jessica.
I love you. Always.

"There are places and moments in which one is so completely alone

that one sees the world entire."

-Jules Renard

Eleven years...

"I cannot think of anyone stronger
 than a mother who has lost her child and still breathes." 

-Robyna May

Eleven years. And I still keep trying to find that strength. To some, it may appear effortless, but when the mask is removed, the tears and anguish emerge.

Some days are harder than others; some years hold more struggle than most. That is the kind of year, that this year is for me. COVID-19, protests, political divide, so much unrest in our world; but the worst of it all, is not being able to hold my loved ones as tightly and often as before...

The universe challenges all that I know and has, yet once again, pierced the hole in my heart that continuously hopes to soften.

Hope. I, too, seek out hope. Hope to move forward, without moving back. Hope to find more joy, than sorrow. Hope to find more love, than heartache. Hope...to find peace.

My visit to Tod to place our ceremonial flowers did create a bit of that vision. The green, pink, and red carnations smiled as they were lovingly placed into the vase, with a butterfly pick, holding a butterfly trinket, that reads, "always in my thoughts and prayers". Because you are.

The warm breeze then embraced me as I marveled at the beautiful sky; while there on the ground, among the masses of clover, I saw the lone dandelion puff. Just. Like. Last year...

Can wishing upon this beautiful fluff of seed really make our dreams come true?

There is no answer. Only hope.

But, I did make a wish Jessica. For you. I wish that you have peace; the elusive peace that I so desire. May Heaven be all that we pray for it to be, as I wish, and hope, that one day, you will be there to welcome me home.

And then, perhaps, I will, have peace.

Good night Miss Jessica.
I love you. Always.

"Everyone we love builds a home in our heart. 

And when they are gone, we spend eternity staring at their empty seat." 

-Shakieb Orgunwall

Ten Years

Every year on this date, I selfishly wish for the same thing: to have the hours of this day move quickly, and with less heartache than those of years past. And yet somehow...it never does.

My entire being has been struggling, attempting to grasp the fact that you’ve been gone for 10 years. And, through it all, I still can't help but wonder how different life would be, if only God had allowed you to stay with us.

And with that I look back. One year ago. My words. So my dear Jessica...with love in our hearts and fear in our back pocket, let our next journey begin.

I've not done well with fulfilling that promise...

Ironically though, while visiting you at the cemetery yesterday, I caught sight of a dandelion puff. The only one among all of the flowers and the vast clover field. It kept my attention, begging me to capture its essence. I immortalized it. Once home, I did what any of us would do...I googled it and found these symbolisms on flowermeaning.com:
   Healing from emotional pain and physical injury alike
   Surviving through all challenges and difficulties
   Getting your wish fulfilled

My wish. Jessica, maybe there is hope after all. Maybe that optimism that once filled my soul will  resurface, and our next journey can truly begin. Maybe the answers to so many questions will finally reveal themselves. Maybe, just maybe, I will finally find my peace...

Good night Miss Jessica.
I love you. Always.

"In the end, we'll all become stories."

-Margaret Atwood