Today, Alamanda would be six years old. It should have been a day of celebration with a big princess party thrown between my two daughters' birthdays. Instead, I'm an emotional wreck. As usual on days like this. Most days, I survive by launching through my day, moving forward but not thinking. I have multiple pictures on my bedroom wall of her beautiful face, including the ones on my happy wall of pictures of my babies at age one month and a big one right over where I sleep with her dates, too close together. But they blend in with the scenery. Even the drawing I made of my angel--older but still beautiful, based on a feminization of my boy who looked just like her at that age--blends in. I can live in emotional stability most days.
But then the dates come along, those monumental dates when she came to me and when she left me. And I don't turn away. I look right into the face of my joy and my pain. We pull out her baby album. We buy her an angel food cake. We make her presents and write notes, which she can see and appreciate from the other side. She still gets a party. It's just not the one I expected when I still thought the world was a safe place.
My husband will be taking off the afternoon, so we can go to the LDS temple as the best birthday present of all for her. When we do, we can feel the Holy Spirit strongly and can feel her with us. It doesn't hurt so much when we are buffered in the arms of His love. These traditions are beautiful and make me happy.
But it still feels like my joy is suspended over a precipice, that when the smiles end and the vibrant pictures of Alli's sunny face run out, and we are left to glance through the waxen images of the face where my baby no longer resides, the darkness comes again. I fall into the abyss of these days. Some birthdays and anniversaries are easier than others. I've already lost count of my tears so far today, and it's only 9 am. I know grieving is a healthy process. I know it's important to feel and remember and celebrate. I will survive this day. I will invite the Spirit and my Alli to join us. I will remember that Jesus Christ overcame death, and I will hold Alli again when she is resurrected. I will remember families can be together forever. It's the only way to make it through.
[Painting entitled "Security" by David Bowman.]
