I go into Madison’s room sometimes. Her bed has been taken apart and boxes of her toys and other items we wanted to leave out are visible. I started packing a box of clothes and other fabric items I would send to have a quilt made. On top are her favorite blankets. Her blue blanket and “Buhbuh”. It’s the first thing I reach for. I gently pick it up, hold it to my face, and just breathe. I like to feel it because it helps me remember all the times I wrapped it around her head at bedtime or while playing with her downstairs. I can picture her little hand holding it tightly while her thumb is in her mouth as she slept. Her BuhBuh is a mess. It has paint on it and it’s ripped a little. She dragged it almost everywhere with her. We brought it on errands until I reminded her that we didn’t want to accidentally lose it so it stayed at home except for big trips. I stand in the middle of her room, holding it to my face, crying and rocking as if I have her back again as a baby, comforting her. The pain I feel not being able to hug her, feel her cheeks and kiss her face is more than I can handle sometimes. Her blankets are the closest thing I have.
Coping is hard. There’s nothing I can do to bring her back and have her close. I can’t watch her grow up and listen to her funny sayings. I can’t sit and stare at her as she plays her games, watching her make her funny faces and laugh at silly things. She made me smile and laugh every day by just being who she was and I miss all of it so much.
I spent some time today going through our photo and video album because I needed my “Maddie Fix.” I had to hear her voice and see her face. I needed to watch her move instead of seeing her completely still. There are just some days that bring me back to that feeling of complete loss and emptiness. The finality that stays and stays no matter how much I want it to be different.
These days are hard but it’s all part of moving forward. You have to walk through the low vallies to reach the next hill.