Thursday, April 02, 2009
I have a vision of Charlotte in my head. She is sitting on my lap so I'm just inches from her sweet little face, and she isn't wearing oxygen. She is smiling, her hands are on my shoulders, and she is wearing the pink shirt her dad got her with big flowers that I accidentally drew on with black sharpie while wrapping it for Christmas. And black pants. And bicals, her signature shoe. Here's the best part--she laughs like she always did, and then says happily "Mommy!" like it's the most natural thing in the world.
It seems like last year the winter went on and on, too, doesn't it? I remember sitting on this very couch looking out at the wind and wet and grayness, and getting all weepy because I wanted spring so badly. I was pregnant and had just thrown up and wanted to just go for a walk outside for heaven's sake. The next thing I knew it was the blazing hot summer and I was desperate for a little cold rain.
This year it seems the spring has come and gone back into winter. I am grateful there was a little spring, way back a month ago around the days Charlotte passed. The day she went home the sky was blindingly blue, and the sun through the car window on the way home was warm and I focused on that and not the empty carseat behind me. The sun came out the day of her funeral while we were at the cemetery and for a few minutes it was surprisingly warm and beautiful out. I sat in that folding chair in my black wool coat, clutching a white teddy bear and a pink tulip and felt as cozy as if I were just waking up in bed with Charlotte snuggled between my husband and I. And there were a few days it was gorgeous out, and with birds singing in the trees around us we went up to her grave and covered it with with beads and plastic Easter eggs and more tulips.
It is as if it is winter again. Picturing her grave under snow makes me sad. I picture the colors on her lollipop headstone running as it melts and refreezes again. The first month was full of sun and joy and happy tears for remembering her goodness. These past few days I feel left behind and cold. It is such a long weary road home. The least I could use is a little sun.
My hope lies in Easter. The year I was pregnant with Charlotte, I remember Easter feeling so much more holy than ever before, because it applied so directly to my baby and I. The rebirth. Triumph over the grave. The bright springtime sun and the forsythia and the empty tomb.
Oh I hope the spring arrives by Easter this year. I am in the midst of the days of darkness and sorrow. I will wait for the morning of the third day.