I am literally so emotionally drained today that I cannot really even see straight. My eyes have cried many tears to the point that everything just seems blurry. My head is pounding and I may pass out at any moment from exhaustion, or at least that's how it feels. But I still feel that I need to write something. Even at my weakest, I need to press on for Ellie.
We shared a family remembrance service today for Ellison. I need time to reflect on all of the happenings of today and to collect my thoughts/emotions before I go into detail about this. But I can talk about last night. Last night I had to place the photos that I have of Ellison into a photo album to share with family that may want to see what she looked like. As I carefully laid out the photos, I just couldn't believe what I was having to do. Instead of filling a baby book for Ellison to look at as she got older, I was filling up a book of memories - the only memories I will ever have of her. I just couldn't believe how hard it was to do - how can you love someone so much that you've never really gotten to meet? Though we shared time and space together for the 8 months I carried her, she never got to see my face and hear my voice on the outside. She may have been sharing a bond with me that is certainly special, but she never got to bond with me through touch. I know that she knew my voice, and I know that she knew I cared for and loved her for those 8 special months that we did get together but it's still not the same as forming that initial bond between mother and baby when they first enter the world and look at your face. Ellison and I never got the chance to share that moment. And I remember thinking to myself "how can you say goodbye to someone you never really got to say hello to?" And then, I corrected myself - we aren't going to say goodbye. We will never say goodbye. In fact, one day when my worldly life comes to an end, I'll finally get the chance to say hello to her.
But in the meantime, I will continually feel Ellison's presence, and if for some reason I can't feel it, I will continually search for it. I see her in everything that I see. She truly is my sunshine. When the sun rises, I think of her. When I see a pretty sunset, I will think of her. Whenever I experience something new, I will think of her. As a wave crashes on the beach, she will be first and foremost in my mind, and in my heart. All of things that she will never be able to see or experience or touch, I will - and I'll have to share it with her in the only way that I can - by always thinking of her. Her heart is now in my heart and hopefully as I journey on, she will be able to open my eyes to things that I may have taken for granted before.
I think to myself that I need to be more adventurous. I need to push myself to experience new things and take risks. I need to pay more attention to the little details in everything that I do. And when I do these things, I need to document it and tell Ellison that "this is for you." If I visit a new place, or achieve some personal goal, I need to let Ellison know I did it all for her. Since she will never be able to physically be around to share in these new experiences or achievements, I have to convey to her in the only way I know how that she will always be there with me in spirit. I need her to know this, and I have to be able to hold on to the hope that she does.
I'll be sure to stop and smell the roses more often. And appreciate the rain for the fact that it sometimes brings a rainbow. I'll pay more attention to life and all its happenings because I now know firsthand how short it can be. While I'm still living, I'm living for the both of us. To paraphrase that song I've mentioned before, "You Are My Sunshine," though she'll never know how much I love her, I won't let her sunshine go away...
-Tomorrow I'll discuss the service we had for Ellison. I want to be able to fully process it before I share it. So we'll just call it "If You're a Bird." The inspiration from the title comes from "The Notebook."
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