Today is my daughter’s birthday. Is? Was? Would be?
She was my first born, second to die. And her birth changed my life. So did her death.
My life isn’t what it would have been if she had lived; in so many ways my decisions would have been different—my focus different.
But her life isn’t what happened. MY life happened. My good life, my life that I am grateful for every evening. It’s a blend of contentment, desire, grace, resentment, envy, fatigue, error, beauty and joy. Events happen. Nothing happens. People come, people go, people are let go of.
But for today – and sometimes in the deep hours of a morning – the loss of what was, what might have been, all those other choices - is a dark wave of pain that drowns me in a thousand tears. And I allow them, because they make me aware of this small fragile life, as if that awareness was her last gift.
