I was no exception.
I stood with my mom and dad, my husband, and my cousin and her husband who had lost their baby at the waterfront park and we lit a candle in her honor with other grieving people.
We then let off balloons into the sky and watched as they floated towards heaven.
As my balloon was caught up by the wind, I cried.
A lot.
And then I cried some more.
I hugged my cousin and we cried together.
I remember the day we lost Alyse.
I still remember what it felt like to hold this tiny, precious child in my hands knowing she had already gone to be with Jesus.
She was so small, so delicate, so at peace.
Selfishly I miss her.
I know heaven is the best place in the world, so I do not grieve for her.
She will never know pain, or sin, or loss. She will only know love and happiness.
But me, I feel that pain.
I hadn't cried in so long that tonight, it all just came out.
Somedays I feel like I cry too much and she wouldn't want that.
Other days I feel like I don't feel sad enough and I am going to forget her.
All I know is that she should be almost 2 months old right now.
If things had worked out as I had planned them, I would be visiting her all the time and holding her and handing her back to her dad when she needed a diaper change and snuggling her and kissing her cheeks.
But that's not how God planned it.
And I have to be ok with that.
But I still miss her. Every day. Especially today.
(Photo Credit: Annie Willems)
(Photo Credit: Annie Willems)
