This weekend was one of those times I took my gift of grief
off the shelf for a little while. I didn’t have a lot of time to spend with it.
It was a day of celebration, and most of my energy and attention was focused on
my little flower girl. If you’ve ever been the mother of a flower girl, you
understand!
The first of my eight nieces got married this weekend, and
even though no one at our table noticed my older daughter’s absence, or at
least they didn’t say anything if they did, I felt it acutely. Between times of
trying to keep my 4-year-old looking like a princess, and still letting her be
a little girl, I kept my little gift of grief with me all weekend. There were
two times at the wedding when I felt my older daughter’s absence most. The
first was when my brother-in-law danced with his daughter to Steven Curtis
Chapman’s Cinderella…
And I will
dance with Cinderella
While she is
here in my arms
‘Cause I
know
Something
the prince never knew
I will dance
with Cinderella
I don’t want
to miss even one song
For far too
soon
The clock
will strike midnight…
And she’ll be gone.
‘Nough said.
The second time I felt her absence so strongly was, when
saying good-bye to my brother-in-law, he whispered to me that he missed my
daughter. I’m sure he has no idea how much that meant to me. But most of the time
it feels like hardly anyone even remembers her. It was nice to know that my
husband’s brother does.
So, I’ll shed a few tears tonight before my head hits the
pillow, and tomorrow, I’ll put my little gift of grief back on the shelf and I’ll be
back at life as usual. It’s what she would want, and it’s what God calls me to
do. If you see me at church tomorrow, you’ll never know I was up until after
midnight, spilling my tears and emotions in this little blog post. I’ll be
smiling and worshiping just like always--and it will be sincere. There is plenty to smile about and be grateful for. But I’ll never stop missing my older
girl—she was a flower girl once too.
I was feeling a little pitiful last night when I wrote this post. I have lots of friends and family who aren't afraid to remember and talk about my older daughter. I know she hasn't been forgotten!
ReplyDeleteBut, there's no harm in admitting that you want people to remember her and miss her. I know that's what Cami fears - everyone forgetting Lulu. And, 3/4 of the amazing people in my life never met my mom and it's hard sometimes because there are so few people who knew her and what she was like - good or bad. I'm so thankful your brother-in-law told you how he felt. I cannot wait to meet her someday! Love you. J
ReplyDelete