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That One Picture

stephaniemoorewrites

I’ve had an aversion for a long time. For as long as I can remember.

This is totally just a crazy Stephanie thing. But I have never liked seeing pictures hanging on the wall where it was obvious one child didn’t make it to adulthood.

That one picture is dated in clothes and style.

It has more discoloring than the pictures that surround it.

That one picture didn’t get replaced year after year like the ones of his/her siblings.

Seeing pictures like that have always made me sad. I would look at them and think, that must be a constant reminder that, that child never had the opportunity to grow up. A missed future.

It just hurt my heart. It made me never want anything like it.

So much so, we never bought school pictures and hung them on the wall.

The pictures we hung up on our walls were candid and with more than one kid for the most part. Other than the canvas prints Lance had made for me for Mother’s Day a few of years ago. (See in picture below.)

I think that’s why pictures growing old affect me so much.

Now, that sad situation is my situation.

Our family picture wall is filled with pictures of our Rory. The face we don’t get to see everyday. And those pictures will probably never change.

Time is Weird

stephaniemoorewrites

1 year

1 month

1 day

And it just keeps going.

I can probably write a dozen blogs specifically about time. It’s weird now.

It’s frozen.

But it never stops.

Time just keeps going.

But part of me didn’t make it past November 13, 2017. And that part will always be there.

How will I ever update my phone with new pictures on the screen?

I can’t get a new one with all four of my kids smiling back at me. It’s impossible.

In so many ways I’ve just had to move forward. There was no other choice for me to make.

I have to be there for my boys.

But in other ways, I’ll forever be in 2017.

When my family was whole.

When my baby girl was with us.

My Life is a Dichotomy

stephaniemoorewrites

Xander has been taking a ballroom dancing class the last few months and Saturday he performed.

His class was one of the last to perform.

As the other classes performed, I just tried to stay in control.

The last recital I went to was Rory’s. She performed two Christmas numbers.

As these sweet little girls performed their little hearts out, I missed my Rory.

Then Xander got up. He pushed past his fear. He had learned a lot.

And he did an amazing job!

I bawled!

I was so dang proud of him.

It feels like my life will never be whole. It will always be torn.

In one moment I’m feeling happiness and pride in my son. While feeling sadness and longing for her.

I don’t know if that will change.

But I’m grateful for every memory of her.

I’m grateful for my life even though it still ends a lot with tears.

Wish It Hadn’t Come to Me

stephaniemoorewrites

Our family has been watching Lord of the Rings to prepare for a LOTR Trivial Pursuit showdown.

When we were watching Fellowship, a couple of lines stuck out to me this time.

Frodo says, “I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.”

Gandalf says, “So do all who live to see such times. But it is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”

I feel that. I say that. I wish. I really, really wish this had never happened to me. I wish she had never gotten sick. I wish she was still cuddled by my side.

But I have no power. It wasn’t my decision.

The power I have, the decision I GET to make is what I do now and for the rest of my life.

I feel this tug quite a bit. This pull of a rope attached to my back. Inching me toward anger, confusion, and despair.

There are times the pull knocks me off my feet and drags me along.

If I’m being completely honest, sometimes it feels easier to let go and skid across the ground. To allow my head to be clouded and my heart to harden.

But it’s not what I want.

So I dig my heels in. I flex my muscles and I do whatever I can to not move that way.

Because the other side of those emotions are love, peace, and hope.

These emotions, though harder to reach at times, don’t drag me. They lift me. They don’t pull me along. They carry me.

When I clear my head and allow myself to be carried by love, I feel closer to Rory.

She was and is love.

When I let go of questions, my why’s, and allow peace into my life, I feel the Spirit. I know I’m not forgotten. I get a reassurance that I’m going to be with her again.

Allowing me to taste the peace she has found.

When I can let go of the despair that tugs at me, hope lives. Hope thrives. Heavenly Father is hope. Jesus Christ is hope. When I focus on them, I feel hope.

I feel hope for her.

For me.

For us.