Well here we are Eisley, a whole year has passed since your birth. I still vividly remember your mama’s first birthday. She was dressed in a pretty yellow sailor dress with a little bow glued on her very short silky hair.
You however are dressed in the glory of God, far away over the rainbow, and we are left missing you and imagining what you’d be like.
It’s been a year of milestones. Instead of celebrating your achievements each 23rd of the month, we have been thrashing while drowning in a sea of grief. Grief is a song without melody.
The missing you, the sadness seems to overshadow everything. I feel guilty about that.
Sometimes I say silly or stupid things to try to compensate, but it’s like expecting an infected wound to heal with the aid of a colorful band-aid. It just doesn’t work. Walking through the painful journey is the only thing that helps. It is like scrubbing out the wound.
I need to stop comparing myself to other’s journeys and just walk my own. I need to be compassionate with myself and recognize that until I’m with you one day that I will always miss you in some way. That’s just who I am. I am your Grammie.
When your mama was turning one, I looked forward to that day, but Eisley I have to confess I haven’t been looking forward to this March 23rd. I feel the world’s pressure to be whole, to be done grieving, to move on as others seem to be able to do.
Maybe, just maybe, I can begin on this first birthday to shift my focus from my loss into celebrating you, sweet baby girl with strawberry blonde curls. See you running strong with joy with that great cloud of witnesses who have gone on before us and keep cheering Pops and me on.
So that’s what I’m going to try to do. As I release your birthday balloon today, I will try to focus on the gift of knowing you and your Grammie will try to smile. I am thankful for the short time we had together. You have already taught me so much.
Run strong with joy sweet Eisley Hope and happy first birthday.
Until I hold you again in my arms and we worship Him together,