No one could be around Rory for any length of time without smiling.
Towards the end, she was starting to come into more mature humor. Making word play, reacting to others.
But for the most part she would make funny sounds.
Have us laughing with her funny faces.
She’d tackle with tickles.
Getting down with her dance moves.
Singing in an opera voice.
There was never a dull moment with Rory.
And most were filled with smiles.
This week was emotional.
Exhausting.
And painful.
By Tuesday I was crying in Lance’s arms that I just needed this week to end.
I don’t have anything profound to say.
Other than I made it through.
I have hope for the coming week.
💜💜
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.
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.
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.
Rory Ann Moore Foundation 