2 Years Without Abigail
My Abigail,
Two years, it's been two years. Last night I woke up and for a minute I thought I was in PA laying in bed the night we found out, the night before we were induced. It was kind of traumatic and I had to reach for your Daddy's arm. I asked him today, when it would get easier, he just gave me a hug. It doesn't hurt all the time anymore, and I think I've gotten some better. Most of the time I can talk about you without my voice cracking and crying. I think I've gotten better at hiding those times when I'm missing you and hurting. But this time of year is still so hard. Every day past Ruth's birthday seems harder and harder.
We had a really wonderful time at the Rich Mountain Association this year. But you were on my mind a lot. Thursday night the two sermon's preached were about what to think on and what to do in suffering. The elders used the text in Romans that hangs on our wall at home "For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us." And the text about David losing his newborn son that we had etched on your stone from II Samuel "I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me." On Friday I walked the cemetery, I have always loved doing that, but now I especially notice the graves of children. There was a very new one, a stillborn baby from this year. I later found out it was the niece of a new friend.
The singing in the meeting was unbelievable. And while we were there, I had the chance to request a song not in our songbook, sung to the tune in the Harp of Ages. One that has made me think of you ever since we lost you. The entire song is about singing praise in Heaven, but one line reads,
While angelic legions, with harps tuned celestial,
Harmoniously join in the concert of praise,
The saints of the flock from the regions terrestrial,
In loud hallelujah their voices will raise;
Then songs to the Lamb shall re-echo through heaven,
I have always liked thinking that when we sit down in song service to sing. That at the same moment you too are singing praise in Heaven above. It's nice to imagine that we can join together in one of the things that your Daddy and I love most. And that tune is so happy. It was so uplifting to be in the services all weekend.
Then we were able to witness the Eclipse on Monday. To see the beauty, detail, and care God put into making the Sun. I'm sure that he spent just as much time shaping you, even though we never knew you, like the sun's corona is never seen, only glimpsed from time to time. I've already written about it, but to imagine the speed and clarity as it moved from total eclipse into daylight again, to imagine getting to heaven and knowing. To finally be at peace about all of this. To see God with my own eyes. Knowing you.
We had plans to take a boat out on Lake Okeechobee today for the first time. To do something special for your siblings, like last year. To celebrate your birthday. More than anything I didn't want it to be just another ordinary day. But it didn't work out. The weather didn't cooperate, and the boat people took this weekend off for their vacation. We played a game of Sorry, had a picnic lunch on the way up to see you (since your siblings claimed they were starving and couldn't wait another minute). Your Daddy picked out some really pretty pink cupcakes. We all had one and left one again this year for you, after swinging a bit and singing your song. But it seems such a pathetic way to try to keep your memory alive... since it seems like there are no memories.
I guess it will never be enough, a lifetime of shadows of what should have been. Your Daddy says he thinks of you most when people ask how old our children are or when he sees pictures of them together and he sees the "hole" or as I have said the missing stair step. I guess I just want you to know that we love you and miss you, and even though you aren't celebrating your birthday in heaven, we are here.
Love,
Momma
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