I’ve been pretty quiet the last two months. Ella’s due date came and went–and brought all kinds of new heartaches. I’ve felt a little numb, and unable to articulate much. I know that it’s important but sometimes I fail to see what the point of talking, or writing is. It doesn’t change much. I am going to take you back to February. We had to finally go and pick out Ella’s headstone marker.
Here is what I wrote:
What do I put on my daughters gravestone? What simple words can sum up her entire existence, or importance? How can I honor her appropriately? What phrase, or poem, or line, or sonnet could possibly be good enough for her? She was perfect. She never harmed or hurt anyone. Never spoke a cruel word. No one knew her as well as I did–and I’m overwhelmed with the responsibility of immortalizing her in stone. To write her name, a date, and period–the end. No tribute could ever be good enough in my eyes. She is gold and everything I say is a fools errand.
I know she is not here anymore. She is somewhere magnificent–and I find myself wondering if she will know me. If she will run to me, and if God will allow me to see her first. I wonder about this often. I long for it.