Rory’s Birthday = Kid’s Day

After Rory’s death, we were quickly confronted with what to do on her birthday.

How do we celebrate Rory, without her?

We did a service project with help from family and friends and donated toys to Primary Children’s Hospital.

Then we also got each of the boys a present and said, “Happy Kid’s Day!”

Our day hasn’t changed much from that first year.

We do some sort of service and we celebrate Kid’s Day.

We wanted activities we could continue to do as the boys grew up, moved away, and had kids of their own.

Our hope is that someday as we celebrate Kid’s Day with our boys’ children, we can say,

“This is in honor of your Aunt Rory. She was a pretty dang awesome girl! Let me tell you a story about her.”

Beautiful Quilt, Sad Realization

When my sister-in-law, Rachel, came for Rory’s funeral she offered to make a quilt with Rory’s clothes.

It was an amazing offer.

Because of the move, ready or not, we were going to have to go through Rory’s clothes and possessions.

We had to decide what to keep, what to giveaway.

So, sending her clothes to a different state with a beloved aunt felt fine.

She called me with updates. She shared moments of love and tears as her and her friend labored over the quilt.

Within a few months Rory’s clothes were back with us in quilt form.

She did such an incredible job. It surpassed any expectation I ever had.

I touched her clothes.

Laid my head down on them.

The thought came to me.

“How is this all I have left of my daughter?”

She was vibrant.

Vivacious.

And spirited.

Now, there were things.

Clothes, toys, hair brush.

And memories. So many memories of this loving girl.

But there would be no more hugs.

No more loves.

No more giggles.

No more hand holds.

How is that possible?

How is this all I have left of my daughter?

It’s About Service, It’s About Love

Totes filled with donated school supplies.

One of the struggles when someone passes away is how do you keep them with you.

When someone does, they’re gone from everyday life. The concerns, the events, the joys, the sorrows, that person is no longer part of them.

Each member of my family has different ways that we include Rory in our everyday life. But one that we do as a family is her birthday service projects, which we turned into the Rory Ann Moore Foundation.

It’s a time we spend together. It’s a time we gather in her name.

Last night we sorted all the school supplies that were donated the last few months.

The boys were completely overwhelmed.

“Where did this all come from???”

They witnessed people dropping stuff off or see stuff come in the mail but to see it all together.

It brought tears to my eyes.

These were donated by people that loved Rory.

Donated by people that love our family.

Donated by people that have been touched by our story and the love we try to spread in Rory’s name.

I’m so happy to announce:

We surpassed our goal for school supplies!

If I said this a million times, it would never be enough.

Thank you!

Thank you for your love and support.

Thank you for reaching out.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

If you are still wanting to donate, we need the following food items to include in Rory’s Bags of Love: Goldfish, Cup of Noodles, and juice boxes. You can find details on the following page:

https://writingthroughgrief.com/rory-ann-moore-foundation/

For a Moment, She’s Back

For a very long time, every morning, I’d wake up and the realization would sink in again.

Rory is gone.

It wasn’t a nightmare.

It’s real.

She’s not coming back.

It’s a hard realization to get hit with every day.

The hit isn’t as hard as it used to be. I still feel it every morning. Now, I mostly tell her how much I miss her.

Last night I had a dream. (I know I keep telling you about dreams! Sorry!)

We were on a cruise as a family and Rory showed up.

She came back to us in all her 8-year-old glory!

She ran up and held my hand.

I stared at her for a minute. Then I asked around to no one in particular, “Is she here to stay?”

Then I seemed to get a confirmation.

I told everyone as we walked. “It took two years but we got it. We finally got our miracle. She was gone but she came back to us.”

I couldn’t help but spread the word to everyone we saw. I was elated! She was back!

It took two years, but she was back.

I couldn’t let her go. I just kept holding her hand, giving her hugs.

Talking to her.

Loving on her.

Listening to her.

Then I woke up.

Normally a dream like that sends me spiraling. Because I miss her so dang much.

This morning, I was grateful to have a few minutes with her. Even if it was just all in my head.

To feel her close to me.

To hear her laugh and have fun.

To have my family whole.

To imagine what our reunion might be.

It was a beautiful few minutes.

Love you, Baby Girl.

Sleep, Dream, and Our Family of Five

I don’t sleep well.

I had trouble sleeping before Rory died.

Since, it plunged to a whole new depth.

One of the side effects of not sleeping is I don’t dream very often. It seems like I don’t get into a deep enough sleep.

So when I do sleep, when I do dream, it’s significant to me.

Last night, though, was hard.

I did dream.

I dreamt we were at a restaurant and people kept taking our seats. Finally I got kind of irritated and told someone off.

I said something like, “We’ve been waiting and that table should be ours. Plus, it’s big enough to sit our family of five.”

I woke up.

My subconscious is now used to thinking “family of five”.

Sigh.

I hate that.

We’re not a family of five.

We’re a family of six.

But one is no longer here to sit with us.

One no longer needs a ticket.

One no longer needs a seat in the car.

Or a place to sleep in our hotel room.

While she’ll always be a part of our family.

She no longer gets to be involved in our everyday.

So for many things we are a family of five now.

With our sixth waiting for us in heaven.