It’s this dudes birthday today. Happy birthday, Love.
Birthdays aren’t easy anymore. They’re reminders of lost years and the gaping hole.
But I’m so glad you were born.
I’m lucky to be your wife and best friend.
Since Rory died, life feels long.
It feels shorter walking next you.
Love you.
I went to Costco the other day and they have this big Halloween costume display.
Front and center was the Wonder Woman costume.
I gripped the cart, fought back tears.
Here we go again.
What gives Fall the right?
Why does Fall have the audacity to keep coming every year?
It gave up that right the day my daughter died.
It’s not okay.
Previously, it was cooler temperatures, changing leaves, school starting, pumpkin treats, and fun holidays.
Now, it’s dread, panic, sadness, loss, and missing. So much missing.
I can it feel inside me already.
I’m planting my feet.
Readying my legs.
I’ve got my head down.
The wind stirs around me.
Please, Heavenly Father, give us strength to weather this storm.
If Rory’s death was the only struggle our family had to get through for the rest of our lives, it would be enough.
Her death hit each of us, leaving cracks in so many places. I’ve found that pain finds its way into those cracks, spreading into different aspects of our lives.
For Dax, the unexpected crack, the unexpected pain, was gymnastics.
Dax started gym at age 5. He spent the entire summer begging me to do gymnastics.
I thought maybe it was more of a whim, but when it lasted the entire summer, I signed him up in September. One day a week on Thursdays.
After starting gym his first question everyday was, “Is it Thursday?” Then he spent the day doing handstands and cartwheels all over the house.
Because of his love and insistence, I signed him up for Tuesday as well.
In a few months they invited him into the pre-comp team then within a year he was moved up to the competition team.
We were out of our depths and didn’t know what we were getting into until it was too late.
But it never mattered because he LOVED gymnastics.
Fast forward to a few months after Rory’s death.
I was saying goodnight to him in bed and he expressed regret that he spent so much time away from Rory doing gymnastics. And now he doesn’t have anymore.
In the following months, he talked about quitting a few times which was so unusual for him. He stopped doing gymnastics around the house. He hardly ever went to do flips on the trampoline.
But Lance and I kept encouraging him. He found so much joy in gymnastics, we didn’t want him to regret leaving the sport.
The last couple of weeks, he’s been doing handstands all over the house again. He walks from the couch to the kitchen on his hands. Dax annoys Lance by doing handstands right into his face.
It’s made my heart swell to see him loving gymnastics again. I’ve fought back tears seeing his love and passion return.
Rory didn’t love going to the long competitions but she did love to watch Dax do gymnastics at home. She also loved to push her brother out of handstands every once in a while too.
I think she’s happy to see that joy returning to Dax.
I thought I’d share a memory from the more mischievous side of Rory. : )
Rory was quite the busy body. If I didn’t hear her for a few minutes, I knew something was up.
Whether she climbed up into the dryer or into the recycle bin, she always kept my life interesting and kept me laughing.
So much laughing with this girl!
Miss you.
The last couple of weeks have been hard for me.
They’ve been, “Why Rory” weeks.
Why didn’t Rory have temperature?
Why was she walking around, doing okay-ish until it was too late?
Why did we only get 36 hour from the time any symptoms hit?
Why didn’t we get inspired to do more?
Why were other family members throwing up with her?
Why wasn’t she buckled over in pain?
Why weren’t her symptoms more severe to alert us?
Why is my daughter gone?
Why?
Why?
Why?
I allow myself time to be sad and angry. I allow myself to cry in bed. I allow myself to hit pillows. To scream and shake my fists. Those feelings are real and have to be felt. To do otherwise is just pushing down emotions and that’s not effective for me.
But I don’t allow myself to live in that head space.
It doesn’t bring her back.
It doesn’t change the past.
It doesn’t help me be a better person.
It doesn’t make me a better support for my husband and sons.
In fact, it does the very opposite for the last two. I think if you were to ask Lance, he’d say I’ve been rather irritable the last couple of weeks.
I’ve had trouble fighting my way out of the depths I was in.
But I feel like I’m starting to see lights above the water.
Lots of lights.
Beautiful purple lights.
Rory Ann Moore Foundation 