The Pink in My Eyes

Dear Heather Faith:

This is a letter of all the things I want to tell you. This is a letter of all the moments I long to share with you. This is a letter of the pink that is always in my eyes. 

There is a trail of pink that follows me. As women, we like  the pretty in the world. Heather, you were the prettiest thing in my life. Your beautiful flawless skin, your soul searching eyes, your pouty lips. You were all girl head to toe. The girly-ness of having a daughter is all around me. It’s not fair. I miss you. You are a part of me, and a part of our family, that is always missing.

The world knew that pink was your signature color. I think you had two blue dresses and one purple dress. The rest of your fabulous wardrobe was baby pink. In the mind of your mama, pink is the color little girls wear. I loved decking you out from your floral headband to your fuzzy pink boots. You owned fifty-ish head bands. It was a great investment! An investment towards your natural beauty! I will always think of you when I see that perfectly pale shade of baby pink from the flowers on the ground to the pink in our sunsets. I believe in pink, and in embracing the beauty all around me, because of you. 

When I go shopping for new clothes for your handsome brothers, I see the girl aisle of clothes that I can no longer buy you. With just a brief glance, I see a new dress or a new hair bow to go with your brother’s dapper outfits. Dressing you overloaded my joy. Sometimes I have the strongest desire to buy something anyway. Sometimes I see that dress that must be worn, and I find someone to send it to. Then, I take a deep breath, which is all I really know how to do, and I continue pushing my shopping cart. 

I always dreamed of taking you to the dance studio with me. To see you in a tutu with other little girls was dream of mine. I know dance would have looked differently for you, but I wish, just once, you could have gone backstage, during recital, for the behind the scenes moment with me. I wish, just once, I could capture the moment of you dancing with Daddy holding you on stage. I wish I could watch Daddy giving his tiny dancer a beautiful bouquet of flowers just like all the other proud daddy’s do. The world of dance is a massive sea of pink, and I wish “happy dance world” was something we could have shared together.

I walk through a mall and it is always swarmed with mothers and daughters shopping together. Then I see the most darling mother and daughter matching outfits.....that one really gets me. How I wanted those matching outfits with you. When I see loving mother-daughter relationships, I celebrate their bond along side them for them, and with you from afar. I am not jealous of their relationship. Jealousy is not a term I associate with what I want again. I just want what I had back....with you. I am so thankful, actually, I am more blessed, to be a part of young girls lives through dance and mentoring. I do not take being present in their lives lightly. I embrace, I cherish, I enjoy mentoring and pouring my motherly embrace into young girls, because I do know what it’s like to have a daughter. I do know what it’s like to have you Heather Faith. I hope that my love for mothering young girls can be used. Not lost...not ended. 

Over the holidays, which brings a combination of joy and sorrow, Hobby Lobby encountered my grief. Yes, Hobby Lobby. I found myself in an aisle surrounded by pink. An entire LONG aisle of pink scripture, decor, and wall art all intended for a little girls room. “Mommy’s world and Daddy’s girl” quotes were all around me.....and all of it matched your room decor. It was killer. I was knocked down for a solid three days in a tear fest devastated that I couldn’t add to your room I cherished in designing. I thought about buying a piece of pink. Then I did. I brought some pink home to hang on our walls anyway.....but it just hurt more. I was angry. I wanted to put it in your room. I took the picture back. 

Mother’s day is one of my hardest days without you. Your birthday. My birthday. January 31st, the day you died. Some of those dates on the calendar are ones to celebrate your miraculous life, and some days are days to just get through quickly. 

I want to sign your name in our family cards to say: Thomas, Jessica, Heather, Collin, and Parker. Our family signature does not look this way. Every time I sign a card, I take a momentary pause wishing I was signing your name too. You know how much of a card writer I am. Cards are one of my favorite gifts to give, but now I feel differently, because every time I sign a card, you are missing from it. 

Heather, you were a Daddy’s girl. You had him wrapped around your finger. You and Daddy had the most beautiful Daddy-daughter moments to watch. Your Daddy’s pain is palpable when I see those moments where I know he longs to embrace you. 

One of them is when we go to weddings and watch the father-daughter dance. How I ache for your Daddy. Watching all these daddies protecting and holding their daughters is something your Daddy was so natural at. Your Daddy is a protector. He did everything to protect you.

Collin is really engaging into the pictures of you on our walls. Collin now says your name. It is the most normal thing for Collin to say your name, and I love that.  He tells me that you live with God in heaven. He is understanding your life. It’s amazing and so hard at once. Part of parenting your brothers means taking them to their sister’s grave site. It’s a mission of mine to make sure your brothers know you well and that heaven is for real. I just always wish they had you as a memory, instead of a story we are teaching them. Parker is playing with all your toys right now. And prior to Parker, Collin played with them too. I never get any of your toys mixed up. I know which ones were yours and which new ones were gifted to Collin and Parker. You live on in your brother’s daily lives!

The moments without you linger endlessly......little girls at the bus stop ready for school, being a flower girl in someone’s wedding, “How many kids do you have” questions, which I always answer my truth, “I have three”. The little moments of your absence lead up to the big moments: School dances like homecoming and prom. Weddings: the father walking his daughter down the aisle. Baby showers. The birth of a new little girl. The list goes on and on Heather. There are so many joys about having a daughter in this world. Daddy and I will not have these joys with you in our earthly life. I believe heaven is complete paradise, but I still want these joys with you here, and in the now.

I found myself in the trap of wanting to be victimized by your death. Through this pain, through this grieving...I found myself seeing what choices I had in front of me. I could live in this pit of losing you and living in excuses, or I could go into the roar of the lion. I could face grief eye to eye. Sometimes facing the roar looks like a breakdown. Sometimes facing the roar looks peaceful. Whatever grief looks like that day, I know not to change. I embrace exactly where I am in missing you. I let my tears bleed or my wings soar.  Then I stand up, and unload the dishwasher. Or I fold the basket of laundry. Or I start dinner. I stand up and I step forward with you in my heart and God by my side. When my perspective goes off track, and I require reminding, there is nothing that shakes me back into perspective then going to sit at your grave site. I avoid this at all costs, because I don’t need a reminder that you died. I didn’t forget you died. I have invented the art of missing you. I do not want ownership of my child’s tombstone, but every so often, I need to be reminded that something can be worse in life......losing another child. 

In a sense I think about God taking you to heaven and think, “you won”.  You got up to heaven. I like to think about you and Jesus making a room for me and your Daddy when it’s our time to come to heaven. Creating your room before you came into the world was one of my biggest joys; I never thought my daughter would be preparing a room for me on the other side. There is a really hard realization about heaven though.....I know you don’t miss me. Heaven doesn’t work like that. I’m actually glad you are not missing me. I couldn’t bear knowing that you were waiting for me. Instead, this is what I imagine you are doing: 

“They say that heaven is compared to the ‘blink of an eye’ for us here on this earth. Sometimes it helps me to think of my daughter running ahead of me through a beautiful field of wildflowers and butterflies; so happy and completely caught up in what she is doing that by the time she turns around to see if I’m behind her...............I will be.”

-butterflyfootprints.blogspot.com

I wanted to write this letter to you, because I’m moving forward in a new way.  I’m giving something to God. I'm not quite sure what to call it, but I trust the next chapter, because I know the author. Writing this letter to you is something I wanted to do for you, and it’s something I needed to do for me.The pink I carry will always be in my eyes; wishing and wondering.You will always be in our family portraits, just not in the same way most people have a family portrait.  There is not one day that goes by that you are not a part of our family. It’s so hard to admit that life goes on. Life goes on with and without you. I’m accepting the life without you more.......and I am doing really well. Your Daddy needs me, your brothers need me, and I need me too. I’m letting you be where you are, so I can also be where I am too. 

Heather Faith: You were fearfully and wonderfully made for me. You gave me the greatest gift of all time; making me a mom.You were my greatest teacher. I would choose you over and over and over again. I love you forever, and I promise, I will never waste my life. 

Love,

Mommy

“Grief never ends....but it changes. It’s a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith....it is the price of love.”

-Author Unknown-