Echoes: A Letter to the One I Lost

Dear Daughter,

I remember holding your tiny little self in my arms, looking into your deep emerald eyes. Those eyes were deep and they sparkled, before they were closed, forever.

I loved you, and I cared for you, deep into the night and day. I invested in you, and watched you grow as the months passed by.

Then, one night, after our five o’clock feeding together, I put you into bed for the very last time. I kissed you, and covered you, and left the door ajar, so that I would hear you calling me with your cries.

Three hours later, when Tatty, your father, went to see why you had given us an extra dose of sleep, he found you cold. Crib death, they called it. Crib death.

We tried to bring you back; we did everything to your little self. We shocked you and medicated you, everything, so that we would have you with us again, but you were too far gone.

I am happy for you. I miss you. I brought you down into the world to be with me, but you had to return back homeI know that when we frantically stood over your little body, hoping, hoping for something, you were already in a happy light.

I am happy for you. I miss you. I brought you down into the world to be with me, but you had to return back home. I know it is good for you. But still, my arms are empty, and I remember you with longing.

You are my child.

When I gave birth to you, we named you with a beautiful name. It graced your tiny features, your eyes, your nose, and your deep pink lips.

I cuddled you, and fed you, and dreamed for you. I dreamed of your first steps and lollies. I looked up baby fashion and carriages. I envisioned your growth. You would become a girl one day. You would have a book bag, slung over your back, and notebooks filled with pencil marks. You would have friends and parties. You would have favorites and opinions.

I dreamed of sharing the experience with you. I wanted to be there for you, in your life, to love you, to accept you, and to guide you.

One day, I thought, we would choose a white wedding dress. Perhaps you would want it with lace and tulle. Maybe you would prefer satin and pearl. Then you would wear it, and we would walk to your chuppah together.

You didn’t come down for that. When I carried you, you knew that you joined our family only for a short time. I didn’t know that.

I had hopes for you, and you had others.

I accept you, I accept that.

You came down for a purpose and as a gift for us to enjoy and love while we still could. I am happy for our time together.

When the time came, I walked you with love. I buried you. I sat for you. I cried for you.

I cried for myself too.

You left us with a void, with empty arms; you took our dreams with you to the silent grave.

But you left me with lots of love in my heart that I can’t share with you anymore, that I will hold for you, forever.

I will feel you always.

Love,

Mommy