Tag: miss her

The First and the Last

stephaniemoorewrites

At our church the children, ages 3-11, participate in program where they sing and speak for the congregation.

It’s easily one of the favorite Sundays all year long for a lot people.

This year it was harder.

It was our first without Rory.

Our last one for any of our kids. Dax turns 12 in January.

The children’s leaders were very thoughtful, knowing it would be emotional for us.

Each of the kids wore a purple ribbon. And they placed flowers where, what would have been, Rory’s class sat. In memory of her. For love of her. And us.

I loved watching Dax sing his best. His loudest. He enjoys singing.

They sang a song I didn’t know, He Lives and He Loves Me.

“…

He lives and He loves me.

I will not forget who I am.

I will strive to remember His plan for me.

I will love.

I will serve in my time here on Earth.

And someday I will return to Him.

He will bless me and guide me.

He lives and He loves me.”

This song encompasses so much of my daily mantras.

He lives so Rory lives.

She’s happy.

God hasn’t forsaken you. He blesses you. He loves you. Keep going. People need you.

Love as Rory loved. She loved always and freely. Do the same.

Here is a link to the song:

https://youtu.be/IEy9AfOstAk

Memory- Doing Hard Things

stephaniemoorewrites

Ugh. This past week has been… painful. A week of doing hard things.

Rory knew doing hard things.

We walked into one of Rory’s karate belt promotions and there were so many people.

She immediately clang onto the back of my pants, hiding.

I squatted down. My eyes connected with her teary ones.

I reassured her. Told her she’s amazing and can do anything. I told my little ninja daughter that she can do hard things and does everyday.

Now, I repeated those words to myself. To my family and loved ones.

She’s happy. At peace.

It’s us. It’s our turn to do hard things.

A Memory- Sam’s Club Freeosk

stephaniemoorewrites

One of the places I feel Rory’s void the most is Sam’s Club.

I know, it’s weird! But we spent a strangely large amount of time there.

As soon as we’d walk in, she’d ask for my card and run to the Freeosk. It didn’t matter what was being given away that day, she was so excited to scan the card and have a sample fall down.

Though, she definitely preferred when fruit snacks or candies were the selection of the day.

I think about you and miss you every time I go to Sam’s Club. Love you, Baby Girl.

Choices and Decisions

stephaniemoorewrites

That night. After Lance and I said goodbye to Rory in the ambulance. After we told and collected the boys from a neighbor’s house. We were in a car headed around the corner to my parent’s house.

Chiler was sitting next to me.

He said, “Mom, don’t check out. Don’t leave me.”

Those words stand guard to my choices and decisions.

Don’t check out.

Don’t leave.

Those two sentences told me a couple of things about my little 13 year old.

One, he understood the gravity of what had just happened.

Two, he was scared.

I can’t do anything about the first. Her death happened.

I can do something about the second, it’s in the choices and decisions I make daily.

I can’t change the past.

But I have power to affect the present and future.

I go through ranges of emotions every single day.

I’m angry!

This is unfair.

I hate my life.

Those statement enter my mind more times than I’d like to admit. But I get to decide how long they dwell.

Anger is potent and can easily take over. But I have guardians over my brain. I have words from a son that needs me.

I choose to stay with him. With them.

I choose hard talks, discussing the impossible.

I choose Easter baskets, to see the smile on their faces.

I choose vacations, to help them see the world.

I choose family dinners and movie nights.

I choose our new kind happiness over anger.

I won’t check out.

I won’t leave them.

The Rory from My Dream

stephaniemoorewrites

Yesterday I posted a drawing made for our family on Facebook.

It was commissioned by my parent’s friends from a congregation they previously attended.

My dad sent me a picture of it in a text.

Tears sprang to my eyes.

That was the Rory from my dream the night before.

In the drawing she looks slightly older than when she was my Rory. The chin line, the posture, her fingers a little longer, she looks just a little more grown up.

This is exactly how she looked in my dream.

I miss her.

I love her.

God is good.

Here’s the website of the artist that was commissioned:

http://www.jeankeatonart.com