Missed Milestones

Dear Sweet Larissa,

Today was one of those days. These type of days have become lesser in frequency as the years have passed on, but my loss and longing is always there. It’s ever existing presence is like lugging around a heavy suitcase. Initially, the weight too heavy to bear, eventually giving way to a lighter load, but always very much there, very much a part of me.

My days, my sweet Larissa, are filled with more happiness than not. Other women who shared in my grief, promised me better days ahead, and I held onto that hope, as at the time smiling and joy seemed a forever distant thing of the past.

You see my sweet Larissa, Ambree and Austin have restored us so much joy. Raising your sister and brother has enabled us to provide the parenting we longed to have provided you. However, grief is tricky. It ebbs and flows and in that suitcase there’s so many missed milestones, what ifs, and wonder.

Missed milestones has got to be one of the hardest things about losing you my sweet Larissa. So, to elaborate on where I started, today was one of those days. One of those days, where your siblings’ milestones brought light to your missed milestones. Ambree, excitedly started 4th grade and your brother, Austin, second. My Facebook feed was flooded with faces of kids embarking on a new school year. I too, shared the photos of your sister and brother, and as always, I couldn’t help but wonder how different things would be, had you still been here.

Friends kids began middle school and I was grateful to have one more year before Ambree joins them, because I’m not quite ready yet. But you see, my sweet Larissa, things would be different if you were still here. I’d be among the moms with butterflies and fear as my first born joins the ranks of middle school. I’d be purchasing the locker mirror, mini disco ball and lights which Ambree admired. “Not yet. Next year that stuff will come.” I told her. As I silently thought “I’m not yet ready.”

Next year, when Ambree embarks on one of the most challenging school years, and butterflies and fear engulf me, I’ll remind myself “You got this Momma.” There are much heavier suitcases to carry.