A friend of mine, Teresa (who lost her six-day old baby girl, Brielle Elizabeth, a mere 10 days after we lost Cora) posted this as her FB status this morning:
“What moves through us is a silence, a quiet sadness, a longing for one more day, one more touch. We may not understand why you left this earth so soon or why you left before we were ready to say good-bye, but little by little, we begin to remember not just that you died, but that you lived and your life gave us memories too beautiful to forget.”
Beautiful words with a truckload of truth behind them. Today marks 14 weeks since Cora died and, while I usually cry hysterically every time a Thursday rolls around to slap me in the face with the stark reality of another week without her, the last two Thursdays have not brought on tears. Instead, I’m faced with a bittersweet ache in the pit of my stomach and a sad smile here and there when I think of the moment I first saw her and heard her cry, when I saw her feet and hands and recognized my lips on her tiny, beautiful face. Those are the moments that I cling to. The moments that are too beautiful to forget.