The leaves are exchanging their life-filled greens for their vivid death-filled yellows, oranges and reds. They are beginning to fall gracefully from the trees and blanket the ground with their crunchy beauty. You can do little to avoid stepping on the leaves that now litter the paths and yards here in the Midwest.
Like the leaves, I can do little to avoid the memories that fall upon me as summer gives way to autumn and autumn to winter. I am currently in the “this-time-last year” mode.
The pictures of the vacation we took “this time last year” show the beautiful fall colors of South Dakota and four happy children enjoying a romp in Custer State Park as their 3 month old little sister looks on from her carseat.
Soon, there will be Thanksgiving “this time last year” and the turmoil that came just a few short days after that.
From there, the air will turn cold and snow may fall, and I will remember “this time last year” when we lived in a hospital for weeks on end as my daughter underwent multiple surgeries.
Next, will be Christmas “this time last year” when we brought her home from the hospital and all her siblings showered her with lots of love and Christmas gifts.
Then, another round of “this time last year” in the hospital with yet another surgery, but the solid hope that she would heal and not need any more.
After that will come my birthday “this time last year”, when I quickly snapped a picture of a sweet 7 month old Emmy in her little white hat and floral overalls sitting like a china teacup on our couch.
Then, will come February 10. And “this time last year” will be the last time I can include a living memory of my little Emily. That memory will not be pleasant. It will be filled with pain and grief.
From there, I will remember funeral preparations and on February 14, I will remember the day I last saw my child’s face, the day I said goodbye.
After that, “this time last year” will begin to include different memories. Eventually, “this time last year” will include a new little one. The grief will change a bit at that point because I will have walked through all the firsts.
This season is a difficult one. I find the tears slip from my eyes more readily these days. I find that as I nuture the babe within, I am all the more aware of the child we are without.
The pain is much different from the agony of those first months. It is a pain based on memories, many of them good memories. It is strange dichotomy.
But as I walk this memory-filled path, I am not alone. There is One who knows my pain. There is One who walks alongside me, bottles my tears, holds me up when I stumble. To every question, He is my answer. To every stormy moment, He is my rock. Never before have I known so acutely what it means to trust in the Lord. Not until “this time last year.”
Anonymous says
(((HUGS))) I was just hinking and praying for you.
God's Guitar Girl says
Wow, I can totally get what you’re saying. My husband was in a motorcycle accident the Tuesday after Thanksgiving and died the following day almost three years ago. The entire first year went by that way. There was a slim possibility I could’ve been pregnant and not known at the time he died, but even after it became apparent that I was not, still when that month came and went, it broke my heart. Had we had a third child, there would’ve been another little version of him to hold, but that was not in the cards.I suspect that this new life you carry inside will hold more meaning for you than you could ever possibly fathom. I wish nothing but the best for you as you continue on your sojourn.
Dana says
I can only imagine the pain you are going through and I am so very very sorry. She is a beautiful daughter, I mourn her loss with you. You cannot be a mother and lover of God Almighty without feeling others pain. You are in my prayers as well as your sweet family. I pray God will take the unbearable sting away soon.
Mrs. Dan says
I’m praying for you! The first year is the hardest, it really is. My “this time three years ago” is going on right now (through October 25th) and while it’s painful to my heart, it’s not nearly as bone crushing painful as it was that first year. May God give you the strength to carry on by His grace! ((hugs))
guinever says
Can I just give you a (((hug))). If we never meet this side of heaven, we’ll have a great reunion someday with our daughters where our tears will be wiped away.
Tanya - Lilyofthevalley says
((((hugs)))) prayers are with you!
Anonymous says
Praying for you sweet Lady.I read your blog posts and cannot imagine what you are going through but at least this technology allows us to include strangers who are our sisters in our prayers for comfort and strength.I will see you on the other side and cannot wait to meet your precious daughter there too
Fruitful Harvest says
((((HUGS))))) Prayers too you. I pray and think of you everyday~My Olivia (baby #6)just turned one. Your blog has really touched me. I know I seem to tell you that every time i leave you a comment,but its true.I pray that you can enjoy this pregnacy and get through the emotions of “last year at this time”,as you get ready for your new blessing. Love and Hugs, Georgiann
Marie says
You know I don’t believe I ever see God’s power and Love more strongly than when I read or hear a grieving parent speak of it. Stephen Curtis Chapman, and two other ladies in the blog world have spoken just as you do, about the pain, but still knowing He is there and your going to be okay, different, but still okay. Thank you for sharing your journey. I’m praying for you today 🙂
Marie
homeschoolblogger.com/mom244now