Coming to a head

Dear Sonzee, 

Hi baby girl! How are you? I am sitting on the porch facing the lake in VV, for another summer without you. I was (as usual) holding everything together. Keeping myself (physically and emotionally) occupied to prevent the whispers of grief that I have kept at bay in that locked space. While I know 2 things can exist, I can enjoy my summer and I can miss you; I can continue to live life without you, and I can also miss you so terribly I want to be with you. The 2 existing things are coming to a head. 

Last weekend (as you probably know because Gan Eden surely got more crowded) a flash flood went through a river in Texas, where a lot of summer camps were located. The impact was deadly with an entire bunk of 8/9 year old girls and their counselors swept away; some of their bodies still have yet to be located. While the news of the reality of that situation was spreading across the US, your sisters were participating in a camp marathon where they chose to run in honor of you. Again 2 truths existing together colliding in my heart and head. 

Any loss of a child sits heavy beyond belief in my core. I know what these parents are feeling, the panic, absence, anger, confusion, intense pain, all with the added challenge that those who have never experience their child's death are saying how they are heartbroken (and while that may be true, they have no idea). They get to wake up to their children. They have them still, here. They are heartbroken at the potential of their loss, but they are unable to truly grasp the new reality of these newly bereaved parents. The ones I will soon see popping up in the online bereaved mom/parent support groups. The ones who now know the pain of everything they have always been subconsciously afraid of experiencing. 

The black hole of grief has opened up and swallowed me. I dislike this hole, despite the fact that my therapist would tell me (and after 5 years I know) that 2 things can exist, I can sit in the hole, I can give the grief time to sit with me, AND I can climb out of the hole. (For the record, I prefer to stay out of the hole and not even entertain it, because as your brother Tzvi would say, "why would I want to think about it when it's too painful") After 5 years I have almost mastered the ability of skipping over the holes, or so I have thought. Because always, when I think I have, and it has been a decent amount of time since the last "oops I feel into the hole I was avoiding moment", I inevitably find myself back at the bottom of the Alice in Wonderland hole. I guess maybe I believe my therapist a bit more about 2 things being able to exist. I can sit here in this horrible pitch-black hole filled with your absence and excruciating pain, AND I know that I will be able to survive the depths of what I have fallen into. 

I just wish these 2 things didn't have to co-exist.

 

Five years

Dear Sonzee, 

It officially happened. You have been absent from our physical presence for more than 5 years. I still cannot wrap my head around this. It seems impossible, yet at the same time it makes perfect sense. After all, so much has happened since you left us. There is truth to the whole concept of life stands still after your child dies, but it seems to only affect the parents, because for everyone else, life just continues. There was a definite divide of life before your death and life since. Life since seems to go by at the speed of light but yet in a slow motion form. It really doesn't make sense when I try to assign the motion words. Maybe if you could imagine the blurred images of a slow motion movie but the background is going a million miles a minute with streaks of light. 

Somehow we ended up 5 years post your death. I just cannot comprehend it. I thought I had this whole grief thing figured out somewhere between year 3-4, but Mrs. Penny reassured me after my last mini break down that that won't even come into the discussion until maybe year 8. Life wiithout you has certainly changed, but it is not any easier. I have just managed to figure out how (althought sometimes I doubt it) to wake up every day and plaster a happy smile across my face and act like I am just the jolliest human around. I probably fool 90% of the people I come in contact with that my life is perfect. That I am lucky, because I have 2 boys and 2 girls. That we are fortunate because we can afford to have our kids in all of these extracurricular activities. That aba and I have this perfect marriage that didn't almost fall apart because of having a child with complex needs who physically up and left us. That we get to travel and take amazing family pictures. But, anyone who actually knows us knows that all of these statements couldn't be further from the truth, but 5 years post your death and we have a certain rhythm that makes us look like "we've got this" (we don't).

Year 5 brought less people (thankfully) sending the once a year text saying they were thinking about me. In fact, the same people who reached out to me today reach out to me constantly through the year. It makes me feel less angry to be honest. Morah Zupnick texted me, "Sending you lots of love and protection from the stupid idiots who are going to text you when they haven't in a year". Maybe year 5 finally has weeded those people out. The ones who I know mean well, but yet frustrate me because why only think about me today? Why not realize I am feeling the same horrific pain and loss during every. other. single, day. of. the. damn. year????? Today is just an in our face reminder of the obvious fact that you are physically missing from our lives. Whether today happened or not we would still feel your absence, and we do. A LOT. The same will hold true for Thursday when we have to do this dreaded day again for the 8 of Shvat, but even worse because people will undoubtedly send me birthday wishes as well for my hebrew birthday (as if that's what I want to think about on that day!!!??). I can't say these thoughts directly to people, but hopefully they read this and feel less insulted at my stance? Hopefully they can appreciate the mixture of emotions that I struggle with on the daily. The ones where I put my feelings aside to make others feel less awkward or better about their wishful attempts of being sincere. I know, it's both an issme and a personal problem, but I am working on it.

This whole year 5 of your absence has finished out with a lot of change that I am not ready to share just yet, but it added a nice extra knife twist to your absence. It no doubt came from you, but it isn't 100% easy for me to accept just yet, but like all else, in time it will be. 

I hope you like all of your new rocks and the new setup of your stepping stones. Hard to even fathom that next week you will be turning ten. I am working on your present currently and I hope you like all of the changes and organizing I have done with your space. You are so very missed baby girl. I know you visited Nurse paige, and if you are ever so inclined, I'd love to have a glimpse of your new life. Or you could just let me know a little about it, like who your friends are, any drama you have experienced, the milestones you have achieved. I would take whatever it is you could share with me. 

But until then and until next time. 

I love you baby girl!

Love always, 

Ema

2024

My hands hover over the keyboard, my mind empty of thoughts. I'm stuck, at a loss for words. This feels fitting because, since I started this blog in 2015, 2024 is the first year I've written only seven entries. The more I try to focus on finding words, the more tears fill my eyes, and that familiar discomfort in my chest grows.

Maybe it’s because there are no new words to share, no brilliance to offer, and nothing more I can say to myself that hasn’t already been said a million times since she died.

2024 marks another year that Sonzee never started and will never finish. There were no new milestones to celebrate, no fresh photos to share, no new moments to commemorate. We did, however, honor her with street cleanups and the completion of a new playground in her name.

2024 also brought more painted rocks for Sonzee, some of which have faded after four years, the paint and messages worn away. The cemetery continues to grow, with more people and more rocks scattered around. I wonder, when new visitors walk among the graves, if they know the rocks originated because of our little Sonzee Bear.

This year, Sonzee received more keychains and gifts from our family travels—perhaps the most since she left us. Keeping the top of her gravestone orderly has become more difficult, but I do it anyway.

2024 hasn’t made it any easier to answer questions about how many children I have. With confidence, I say “five,” but it’s the details that bring hesitation and inner conflict.

This past year, I’ve allowed myself to sit with my grief more often, though I still tend to suppress it, to my own detriment. I’ve felt more sadness, more emptiness, and more silence in my mind because of Sonzee’s absence. But I’m still uncertain what to do with all of it.

In 2024, I accepted that there’s no "fixing" grief. I came to terms with this in the same way I had to accept that a cure would never make Sonzee an active participant in her own life. I accept grief for what it is: permanent, ever-changing, and woven into the fabric of my existence. I accept that it will influence everything I do, every day. I accept that others, even family members, may never fully grasp the depth of grief’s impact. And I accept that there will always be a void—one that nothing can fill. It’s larger than everything else, and though it sometimes shrinks, it is never gone. It can swell at any moment, without warning, and consume everything. I accept grief, but I don’t like it.

2024 was the last year Sonzee should have been in single digits. It marked the beginning of “10 Weeks Until 10,” and I started leaving painted stepping stones at her grave. I hope, wherever she is, she’s able to step on them.

2024 is also the last year she lived longer than she will be gone. A concept my mind struggles to accept.

2024 was simply 4 years 10 months and 29 days without our little bear.

Grief Depression

Last week, we celebrated our fifth Rosh Hashana without Sonzee. Sitting by the window the first morning, my brain started to write like it used to. Three days later, I hope to remember what I need to get out of my mind. 

I spoke to someone last week who mentioned they were comfortable enough with me to make a comment that when someone is depressed they just want to give them a list of things to do because that will occupy their time and they won't have time to be depressed. Ha! I thought to myself if you only knew what the true weight of depression feels like. I cannot speak for typical depression, however, I can speak volumes for grief depression. That is if there is even a distinction between the two? I honestly do not know.

It has been 4 years 8 months and 3 days that I have been living with grief depression. I am unsure if that makes me an expert or not, but I feel like it gives me some merit. It has been 3 years 2 months and 3 days since the unspoken time limit of my grief should have ended. (You get a solid 18 months to actively, openly, and without fear of judgment truly grieve your child, after that, the timer on the invisible clock beeps, and the grief and depression of your dead child disappear, as simple as saying "grief and depression be gone!") JUST KDDING, they don't actually disappear, (SURPRISE!) we bereaved parents just become pros at keeping it bottled up, safe for only specific people, or only letting it out accidentally when the emotions become too overwhelming to suppress. 

The truth is, my days are beyond busy. Between working full time, taking care of a home, and working the evening taxi driving shift for the 4 remaining children I have to their various after-school activities you would wonder how I could actually have time to add grief depression to my list. I assure you, like 1000 pounds of bricks sitting on your chest it is there. Suffocating its recipient to the core, making it beyond difficult to literally put one foot in front of the other. There is no real choice in the matter. Can you imagine telling your boss that you aren't coming to work because the weight of a collapsed skyscraper is sitting on your chest not allowing you to move? Do you think your living children would understand if you said, "Sorry honey, no gymnastics today, your dead sister has tied me down to the chair and I am unable to get up to drive you". Grief depression at its lightest is a 5lb bag of flour sitting on your chest. You shift it around in your arms for yourself to make it appear easier to carry, but the reality is, it is not. In the words of a favorite princess, "conceal, don't feel", becomes a daily mantra. 

Life continues to go on and quickly at that. There is little time to wallow in the grief depression, and sometimes wallowing is even too exhausting, but if you wanted to know where I will be for the next week of my fall break, it will be basking in the depression of my grief on my couch playing FarmVille and allowing the weight of the fact that I buried my almost 5-year-old little girl 4 years 8 months and 3 days ago sit right smack dab on the center of my heart, because grief depression is heavy and sometimes you need to relearn how to carry on with it because it moves itself right on back to the very top of the to do list. 

Sonzee "turns" 9

Dear Sonzee, 

The first sentence that comes into my mind is, I can't believe today (would've, could've, should've) been your 9th birthday. That is how most of my current thoughts start when it comes to you because really, I can't believe how much time has passed since you were born and since you have died. This was the 5th birthday we celebrated without you here. The last age you were was 4. I have so many unanswered questions about who you even are. It is difficult to honor someone when you don't know them, and it is even doubly hard when they were someone you once knew better than yourself. I still have to ask myself, how is this even real?

Today I woke up and started my day looking at February 11 in 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, and 2019. I skipped 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, and 2023. I came across a not-at-the-forefront-of-my-mind gem that was aba feeding you frosting from 2 cupcakes for you to indicate your preference. That 2nd birthday of yours was miserable. You cried in 100% of the pictures taken, and babysitter Paige did a family shoot for us with our cute matching outfits. You really could have cared less, and that you did. You clearly were bothered by the seizures and pain. 

It is funny, how aba reminded me how much I hated your birthdays during your life. I can promise, I hate them even more now in your death. There was just something so painful about reliving your birth and those first few weeks afterward every year while watching you suffer and miss every age-appropriate milestone. And now, well now you miss everything. I, however, do not miss watching you suffer, but I do miss not knowing the little girl you would be. Let's be honest though, it was a challenge to know who you were when you were alive too. It's not ideal either way.

Noam, Tzviki, aba, and I went to your grave and gave you your birthday rocks. Your sisters didn't want to come. I was torn in my mind over whether I should force them to or not. On the one hand, if they don't want to go maybe it's because it makes them sad, or maybe their grief is indicating they want to honor you a different way. On the other hand, what if it is just them wanting to put something else above you, and then I feel that isn't fair. I am all for variations in grieving, but it hurts my heart too much to have them just pretend today isn't a family day or that it isn't an important day. After visiting you we felt we should go to Starbucks and I bought myself a pretty tumbler as "your gift". Then we drove all around Scottsdale picking up your siblings from their previous night's sleepovers.

We were supposed to go watch a show, but it was canceled last minute, so I spent the afternoon getting addresses together for Tzvi's bar mitzvah save the date invitation that have to go out (once they come, after I fix the incorrect date (and aba thinks I have it all together, HA!)) We then went to bubbies and pop-pop made pizza's and bubbie made pasta and a wonderful red birthday cake for you with the perfect bear center! I couldn't have asked for a better way to celebrate your birthday, well except if you were here. 

Anyway baby girl. I hope wherever you are everyone made you feel special and that you had a spectacular day. I have no idea what I will have to plan to honor you turning double digits, so it's a good thing I have 365 days to figure that out. 

I love you and miss you beyond words!

Until next time. 

Love always,

Ema

Four years

Dear Sonzee, 

Today at 1:08pm marked 4 years since you left this world. So much has happened in that amount of time, but it doesn't really involve much healing of the hole in my heart. Shifts of emotions sure, and moving forward in numerous ways have occurred, but there is still no sense of peace in your absence. I have however become a master of masking emotions and to quote the Book of Mormon, I can "turn it off, like a light switch, just go click".  I am not sure it counts as moving forward in the intended sense, but it counts as something I suppose?

Four years ago today I gave you one last kiss and carried you out of the house for the last time. I laid you on a gurney and was shocked at how cold it was outside for a February day. I hadn't been outside in weeks and was caught off guard. I flinched at the chill and grabbed a blanket so you wouldn't be cold, and then considered how insane that must have sounded to others. As if temperature mattered to your body any longer. I couldn't stop the mothering though, it was bad enough I was sending you by yourself in the back of a hearse, the least I could do was give you a blanket to ensure you were warm. 

Today I looked at the clock at 1:34 and noted to myself what I was doing at this time 4 years ago. Pacing around a counter, organizing things around the house, feeling confused and unsure of what I was supposed to be doing, while Nurse Paige sat on the couch writing notes. It didn't make sense to me that life was going on around me, just like today it didn't make sense we had just gone back to Morah Zupnick's house for lunch after celebrating a bar mitzvah. I wasn't in the mood for celebrating today, but I sucked it up and played the part. Few people knew what today is anyway, and apparently, because it isn't your yahrtzeit it doesn't count as the day you died (insert me rolling my eyes and wondering why it is I am an observant Jew sometimes). 

It wasn't until this year that I started to feel the whole grief should expire concept from other people. It seems as if life is always moving on around me and there isn't time to wallow in my grief either. I feel torn between focusing on you being gone and focusing on our current day-to-day family life. In the semi-quoted words by Nora McInery, "I want to give you and your memory my best and I want to give my living family my best, and sometimes I think my best is gone and what is left is whomever I am now". Whomever that actually is I have no idea. I wish I did, but I am still lost, even four years later. I just excel at acting like the new me has been found. 

Bubbie and Pop Pop brought Max over for some doggy therapy tonight. It was perfect for my after-shower tears that I had managed to suppress all day long. Now I have some hot tea and a new set of tears to help finish off the night. Your twin girl (who always manages to say and do the right things at the right times) told me that she is sorry that you died and how she notices in my face when I am thinking of you and she is thinking of you too and she wanted me to know that she does miss you a lot. It really was at a perfect time because it was right after I finished writing the sentence above about grief expiring and my next thought was how sometimes it feels like I am the only one who still grieves you. I know people grieve you, and I know they do it their way, and that is fine, but the further away the time has gotten, the more alone the grief feels. I don't like that part of the journey. I don't like how time since death somehow translates to others that it is less hurt and less pain. Or maybe it is just people just don't think it hurts as much? Maybe they think that time has healed the wound? I don't know, but whatever it is, I wish it wasn't. I wish people offered the same check-ins and assistance they did right after you died because honestly, every grieving set of parents still needs support even (yes shockingly) years later. 

In a week and 1 day, you will be turning 9 in heaven. I don't know how to even comprehend you as a 9-year-old when I last saw you as a 4-year-old. From preschool to 3rd grade, that seems unreal(well I guess in a sense it isn't real). I wonder what you would look like now and if your baby face would be gone. Would you have lost teeth? How many windows would there be looking into your mouth? Would your eyes have changed officially to grey and started their journey to green like your older sisters and how your brothers are starting to? 

What have you been up to over this year? Have you made new friends? Do you have a best friend? What are your favorite things to do? Do you get to swim? Do you see Saba and Coach Ed? The one question I really want to know is, When will you feel I am ready to ever see you? 

I am sorry my letters have been lacking over this past year. It seems to be my way of avoiding the reality of your death and absence and on top of that excuse, it is exhausting to grieve.  I am already exhausted from working and having an active life to expend any additional amount of energy on focusing on you not being here just isn't something I am capable of doing daily. I wish I could be, but I just can't. I am sorry. 

I miss you more than words could ever explain. I wish you were here. I wish you were born healthy and able to still be here with our family physically. 

I love you!

Love always and forever.

Until next time. 

Ema

8 Shvat/January 18, 2024

Dear Sonzee,

I have spent the last year trying to figure out how to celebrate your sisters 14th birthday and honor your Hebrew death date anniversary. The timer has ran out and I’m still stuck. I know how the fake the smiles and be physically present at your grave in the morning while singing happy birthday over a cake at dinner, but the honest truth and reality is that it doesn’t make sense. There is that saying that you can be a jack of all trades and master of none; that about sums it up. 

How? Why? I don’t understand. 

Is there a right or wrong way to do either? Do you get the “shaft” because you aren’t physically here? Is that fair? Will you “not know?” Is that even a reason that makes a difference? I’ll know. Do I pretend that all that today is, is the day your oldest sister was born? Does that really give justice to your life and death? Do I honor you another day? I mean inevitably I will. If it were up to me I’d pretend today wasn’t your yahrzeit, but in the Jewish faith, today is the actual day that matters. Lucky me, I get to do this all again in just a few more weeks.

Either way today sucks.  Today on the secular calendar in 2020 you spiked a fever. A fever that didn’t indicate anything other than your organs were beginning to fail and your life was soon to be over. It is a fact that tainted your oldest sister’s milestone 10th birthday. I was honestly frustrated with you, or rather the situation. It was obviously out of your control, but my emotions are hardly ever rational.  

I suppose it is completely fitting that you and your sister were known as “twin girls”. What other people could be as intertwined to represent the cycle of life than you both. To have your souls and spirits tied together on so many future dates that only twins would experience together. 

I would ask you to visit your sister to wish her a happy birthday, but I am sure you have already. I’m sure I’m still the only one who has yet to have a visit from you over the last 4 years. My body still feels a tremendous void with your absence. 

I will save my other thoughts for the Feb 3 date because it gives me a bit more time to “pretend” we aren’t at 4 years without you yet.

Today, on your Hebrew deathaversary I will continue to pray that you are at peace and wish that you have been experiencing everything you weren’t able to while physically here with me. I will give you some more beautifully painted rocks and visit you with everyone who is closest to our family and you. I will head to work and surround myself with children who have so many of your characteristics and keep you in my life in a completely different way than anyone or thing could. I will wipe the tears from my eyes and go on with my day with a smile for your sister and gratitude that today 14 years ago I was afforded the opportunity to become a mother to such a resilient and amazing 5lb 5ounce little girl who never had a choice over the circumstance of her childhood. I will thank hashem for using our family for the benefits only he sees, while continuing to ask you for your Sonzee bear strength to continue putting one foot in front of the other while I continue on I struggle through life after you. 

I love you little bear! 

Love always and forever,

Ema 

202 weeks and 1 day

Dear Sonzee, 

It has been 5 Mondays and 1 day since my last letter to you. It has been 202 weeks and 1 day since you were last on this earth. I feel like in the last 14 weeks so much of my coping with grief has changed maybe that is why there have been fewer letters? If I am honest, that isn't entirely true, it also has to do with me working full time and your siblings' extracurricular schedules. There remains not enough time in the day. I still wonder how I managed everyone and you. I mean I know it was in huge thanks to Nurse Paige. We never would have been able to do anything of what we did without her. I miss her a lot too.

Over the last 5 weeks and 1 day I have been immersed in work and activities which has allowed me to compartmentalize my grief. In a week we will be on our first actual family vacation that doesn't involve hockey or gymnastics, so I am hoping and planning to continue pushing off the wallowing and self-pity until our return. Then the next 6ish weeks will be left to being extra depressed over all the dates of yours to come. 

This year you planned a whopper of having your yahrtzeit fall on Laeya's 14th English birthday and my 40th Hebrew birthday. I give you a standing ovation for that talent. You always knew how to blend the positive and negative and merge happy and sad together. Well done little bear. In 13 days we will start another year without you. They have all been horrible, but this year to come will eventually turn the clock to your death being longer than your life. I am not ready for that. So I will sip my wine, swallow my tears, and smack back on my happy face until I am sort of ready to deal with that thought because I like avoidance far better.

In other news, Aba got a new car this week! He is very excited. I wanted it to be red for you, but we went with a pretty blue. I am going to get your name on the license plate, so this way you will have a place in the car. Maybe SONZBR or SNZBEAR? I have to think about it. Anyway little bear. I miss you so much. I still wish you would come and visit me. 202 weeks and 1 day is long enough already! Come see me in my dreams!

Love you!

Until next time. 

Love always, 

Ema

Expired

When Sonzee first died a close friend of mine whose daughter had already died told me “Randi, you’ve got 18 months before you aren’t allowed to grieve anymore”. We joked we should write a book about our time limit and things we should advise other bereaved parents to do during that allotted time. I think we chatted about it two times and that was it.

Through all my reading of grief books and online and in person grief groups I had heard there would be or it was at least referenced, that people would expect grief to end by a certain date. For 2 years on the grief journey I thought how I had been lucky I hadn’t really experienced any of the “negative”’comments, thoughts or insinuations. There were brief glimpses of idiocy presented to me, like the day after Sonzee died when someone told me I’d get over her death because her sister in laws cousins friend had lost a son to cancer and she had moved on so I shouldn’t worry; I’d get over it. I turned that into a joke during shiva with my closest friends with either them asking me if I was over it yet or me saying we shouldn’t worry because in a few hours I would be good to go.

A sprinkle of comments here and there would occur, but always during the first 2 years at least one person would ask me how I was doing and insinuate they were wanting to know how I was “truly” doing. Truly wanting to know how was I coping with the death of one of my children. Albeit an awkward question to answer, at least it was asked.

By the start of year 3 on this grief journey that question was no longer asked by those who are not true friends. Attending events seeing people I haven’t seen since Sonzee’s death or around that time, no one asked. Maybe they didn’t care? Maybe they didn’t want to “make me think about it” (ha! We can discuss that in another post). OR maybe, it’s simply that they didn’t even think about it anymore. 

It’s been 3 years 8 months and 17 days. I was asked one time during the last 8 months how I was really doing, and it was followed up with a “but aren’t you happy she is in a better place?” A statement that has nothing to do with how the death of one of my daughters still, “even” after 3 years 8 months and 17 days feels the same if not worse than it did on day 1. 

I realize every day how much life goes on. I get it. She died, people felt badly and then resumed their lives. People mourned her loss and maybe even a few still think about her, and maybe some even wonder how I am truly doing, but don’t bother to ask. It’s not fine, but at the same time it is, because I am here to explain, she may have died. Her life may have expired, my pain has not and it won’t ever. That’s ok because grief is just how I will continue to love her. I don’t need anyone to call and ask me how I am doing, I don’t need to have to dodge the uncomfortableness of others when I might bring her up. I am just here to tell you, grief is forever, so a true check in on all your bereaved parents shouldn’t expire.

3 years 6 months 5 hours and 27 minutes (AZ time)

Dear Sonzee,

 

I am sitting here in the VV pool area for night swim with 2 of your siblings. The other one is galavanting around Israel (and soon France) with your father. Uncle and Hay-Hay are back at the house while Isla fights going to sleep. There have been so many times I’ve wondered how you would fit into this equation. Would we still be coming to VV? I tell myself yes, we were always encouraged to leave the hectic chaos of hospital and sickness life to give you and your siblings the best quality of life, but I wonder if that could have continued as you got older. Would you have finally grown? Would you have become mobile and required more supervision than we could offer you here? Would you have eventually been accepted into camp HASC??? What would our lives have looked like over the last 3.5 years? What would they look like now?

I struggle to comprehend life with you here still. I don’t know if it’s for any other reason besides it being just too difficult. I still, after 3.5 years, don’t like to accept the pain of grief and your death. I still, after all of this time still don’t like to think of you not here with us. It still takes my breath away. It still makes me panic. It still is just too hard. I know, I know, it is likely to continue. I get that. Well, I try at least. I get it about as much as I understand why you had a mutation on your CDKL5 gene, and why you were so affected by your mutation. I get it about as well as I understood AP physics…(for those who know me, that should explain my understanding). 

Life continues to move on, and so so quickly. I watch your brothers play together, and it makes me smile that they have each other. Their age difference is starting to become less apparent as they play around. Where would you have fit? The thought makes me broken, almost as broken as I am now, but that wasn’t even possible to comprehend while you were alive. I mean in ways it was as I expected, in others, nowhere near. 

Your siblings continue to grow up. You won’t. You don’t. You haven’t. You’re still stuck in my mind as a 4 year old. I still hate that we celebrated you turning 5. You never got to in real life, just the pretend life we tried to have for you. Your siblings continue to drive me crazy and each other. You hardly did that. Your siblings more often than not act as if their lives are normal.  I wonder how much of that is a facade and how much is real. I am afraid to know the answer to either of those questioning thoughts. 

I have kept myself busy this summer working. Something I didn’t and haven’t done any other summer. There’s a part of me I think doing it to ignore your absence since everyone is at camp. There is a part of me doing it to surround myself as much as possible in a world you once encompassed. It’s a double edged sword though. I love working in a place you spent a good portion of your life. I sometimes HATE when your name pops up in directories when I least expect it. I remain torn on if that’s a message from you or stupidity from the systems that for some reason haven’t erased you from them. But one day I am sure they will and I wonder if I’ll notice and it’ll hurt me more, or if I won’t even notice? Which will be better?

There is so much more we have been able to do over the last 3.5 years since you left us. A part of me wonders if you left us for that purpose? Did you feel like you were holding us back? I can’t say you didn’t, but I will say I didn’t mind. I mean there were some hospitalizations that were untimely, and you knew how to steal attention from your siblings. There were definitely other ways you could have gotten aba and i to spend alone time with you, but you preferred it to involve lots of tubing and medical interventions. I don’t miss those. I do miss the people. I miss being around people who got that life, because so few get the one I’m living now. That’s been a challenge. 

I feel like you are lucky because minus my fear that you aren’t healed and that you miss us, I know you are amongst some amazing souls. I am dreading the distance from your death getting longer than your life, but I know that amount of time will be here sooner than I’d like. How will it be that in just 6 months it will have been 4 years from your death and you were 4 when you died. I will get smacked with that timeline and then your 10th birthday all within a week of one another. 

I wish 3.5 years ago I would have known that I would feel essentially the same but yet some times worse. I wish the peace I felt 3.5 years ago was still surrounding me knowing and believing you are in a better place. I wish the comfort I felt at you no longer suffering would continue to bring me comfort now…it doesn’t, although I try to argue with myself that it does. There is little I can tell myself of your death that brings me calmness. I am happy your siblings get to live a more consistent life and that they get to have more experiences, but I’m not sure it is worth the expense of your life? I could again justify it to be the case…but I think they were living fine lives with you here.

Anyway baby girl. I miss you beyond words. Your loss is still felt by so many and your ema is still broken without you. There is still a huge void in our lives in case you ever doubt that and I pray that you really are flying freely and getting to do everything your earthly body didn’t allow. 

If you visit, please don’t bring any water, we are all good with the houses we own…but I’d love to eventually see you in my dreams because 3.5 years and 5 hours and 27 minutes has been long enough. 

Until next time.

Love always,

Ema   

Recap of weeks 174 and 175

Dear Sonzee, 

We just completed day 2 of our drive to New York. We went a similar route to the one we did with you back in 2017. We passed by one of the fun spots where we spray painted the cars that were sticking out of the ground and Noam asked if he had been there. I told him no, but you had. Then I thought to myself it might be unfair that I won't ever take him, but also it falls under my rules of never repeating things unless we really have to. So today led us to a playground right before we entered into Oklahoma, and the brittle leaning water tower. We did have 2 Starbuck's stops and 2 gas stops as well. 

Aba is at home with Meena and Tziki. Meena is going to gymnastics 4 days a week until she flies to NY for camp. She got her roundoff-back handspring-back tuck, and it is beautiful. I am in aw of her strength and abilities. She is just so talented. I still can't believe she started 2 years ago. Tzvi and aba got back from Florida last Wednesday, the day after Laeya and I got home from New York. They went to watch a Stanley cup final game for the Panthers. It was an incredible game, and the only one they won during the last series. Vegas went on to win the cup, but Tzvi will have that forever experience. 

Last week was spent mainly finishing up the packing for camp and our roadtrip. Your siblings finished school for summer officially on Friday. I have been virtually working here and there to answer emails as we rev up for ESY to start next week. I am looking forward to summer relaxing paired with working, but I do feel like it is going to make summer feel like it is flying by. 

Anyway my love. I wanted to just send a quick update on things. I have another letter writing itself in my mind that might have to wait until tomorrow to get on paper. 

Be safe, have fun, and I miss you!

Unitl next time. 

Love always, 

Ema

3 Years

Dear Sonzee,

On Friday I honored your 3 year deathaversary while Tzvi and I were in Vegas for a hockey tournament. I received so many texts and Elle sent beautiful flowers. The moms on Tzvi’s team gave me hugs and overall it was a good day.

Tzvi lost both of his games (I am sure you know) because he scored the only goal during the morning game and I was so overwhelmed with emotions I started to cry. It obviously wasn’t about his goal, it was about you, but every emotion melted together and turned into me being a basket case on the top row of the bleachers. Thankfully everyone let it go. 

It’s hard to believe it’s been 3 years in time, but really it feels so much longer when it comes to this journey. 3 years ago Covid was just becoming a thing, but not really yet, and certainly not in the United States. Since then, so many deaths have occurred due to it, schools spent years closed or offering remote online classes, the world shut down, reopened and now…it’s essentially back to normal. Except, you’re still gone.

The last three years I’ve experienced so many emotions and I wish I was done having all the feelings, but I don’t, and it’s frustrating! It feels never ending…because, it is. Which is something I realized somewhere along year 2-3. Year one I was in denial. Year 2 I woke up and realized it was real. Year 3 I realized that this is permanent. 

3 years. When someone asks me now how long ago you died I wonder what people will say in response to 3 years. Will they reply that it is still fresh? Do I fall in that category anymore? Will they say oh, wow, that was so long ago?! (Is 3 years really that long ago?) How will I reply? How will any of the responses make me feel? I. STILL. DONT. KNOW.

3 years has taught me that I can’t make everyone else’s journey mine. I can’t carry any more and that’s ok. I have to let others live their stories and I can’t bear their weight. It becomes far too heavy and it makes the small ability I have to cope with my grief and your loss almost impossible. So I am thankful I have learned that it’s ok to let others challenges go. I cant change their course and I can’t make their pain go away or not occur. 

3 years has me wondering more about what you’re up to and where you really are. It makes me question how life would be if you were here and how it would be if you had never had a mutation on your CDKL5 gene. 3 years has made me miss you more than I can even describe. It brings tears to my eyes to even think about. 

Our family still misses your presence and brings you up often. Noam still talks about you and everyone else does as well. We all wish you were here and we all still grieve your absence in our own individual ways. We all wish you are happy wherever you are and pain free. We all appreciate your visit at the cemetery last Monday. 

I wish every day I could see you and kiss your sweet soft cheeks and give you cuddles and squeezes. I wish I could snuggle with you one more night and tuck you in. I wish every day you’d be here, with us, to make us be the complete family of 7 that we should be!

But, I also wish that you continue on your current journey, pain free, not suffering, being the amazing Sonzee you could be and that you continue to enjoy every single minute.

Love always,

Until next time.

Ema

February 1, 2023

Dear Sonzee,

Three years ago today was the last time you physically entered into a new month.  Every year since when we finish January and enter into February on top of reliving those days as if they are now, I am reminded of January being the last full month you lived and February being the last partial month you lived. You would think those facts would get easier to stomach with the distance in time. They don't. But, thankfully for the other 10 months of the year, the fact hides away in the recesses of my mind.  March is also a finicky month because it was the first full month we lived through without you. As aba said to me this week, so "January is hard for you, and so is February, and then March, April, May...is any month a good month?" The short answer is no. My question back to him was "How are they so easy for you?!"  I wish I could say on the brink of your English deathaversary that your father and I see eye to eye on a part of your journey, but that wouldn't be the truth. Our grief journeys parallel your life journey...I suppose it is okay, our differences sometimes complement one another?!

Since the 8 of Shvat pretty much everyone I am close with has been so amazing. Sunday night the doorbell rang and someone brought over a beautiful bouquet of pink roses. Aba also brought me a Sonzee-esque bouquet Sunday. Ironic that I used to hate flowers, and now they bring me some comfort. East Valley wrote me notes and I had beautiful sunflowers sitting on my desk when I got in to work from being at your grave. Morah Zupnick gave me a beautiful bracelet that has everyone's favorite picture of you in it when you hold it up and look inside. It is the picture we blew up and had at your funeral. The one that is by your Rifton chair in your kitchen corner. It is also the one Kole's mom got etched into the silver necklace I wear every day. The Howard's sent me cheesecake. So many texts and calls and messages of love. It doesn't remove any pain, but it helps to know I am not alone. 

I am a month into this whole #grief365challenge. Some days I post pictures from 2020 and sometimes I just can't. These next two days I relive the regret of not having any more pictures taken of you. The regret that will haunt me for the rest of my life. The only "I wish I had" I have on my list when it comes to your death. No regrets except no pictures and not letting Tzvi sleep in your bed with you one last time. I know I can't change the past. I can't fix those regrets. Not focusing on it doesn't change the reality, I know this, but. I suppose for the complex life you lived and all of the choices we had to make, to only have these as my regrets is a plus. For that I am thankful, but it doesn't change the ache I have to see myself holding you or giving you your last kiss, or one day maybe being able to share what images remain only in my mind. I will thank g-d for them still being so clear to this day.  

Tomorrow Tzvi and I head to Vegas for his hockey tournament. I hope you come to visit, maybe help them out a bit, but really come to say "hi", especially Friday. Maybe another obvious visit like Monday? I would try not to be greedy, but since you gave a mouse a cookie. At the very least I would settle for strength not to be on edge and to be at peace Friday. Maybe you can share that bear strength of yours for the next few days!?

Anyway, little bear. I love you beyond words. I miss you even more. I appreciate every apparent and non-apparent sign you have sent my way over the last almost 3 years...please don't ever stop.

Until next time.

Love always, 

Ema

146 weeks

Dear Sonzee,

Today, it’s been 146 Monday’s since you left me and today your little brother became one day older than you will ever be…today he turned 4 years 11 months and 24 days…you will forever be 4 years 11 months and 23 days…I won’t lie and say it’s ok or that I am fine. I will say I survived the day, I received some extra hugs, texts, and calls, but for the most part I mastered my usual hide behind the smile routine. Then I laid down with your brother - like I did with you for the last time 146 weeks ago - and I let the tears flow, because while it isn’t something that is thought about often, the reality is, it sucks, it’s sad, and it’s so incredibly unfortunate. I would love to know the little girl you would be now…would you have ever sat? Would you have ever taken steps outside of your gait trainer? Would we have ever stopped your seizures? These are all answers I won’t ever receive. But my wishes for you over the last 146 weeks is that you have achieved all of those accomplishments and more. I miss you baby girl more than words can ever express!! 

Until next time.

Love always, Ema

144 & 145 weeks 2 days and 8 hours

Dear Sonzee, 

145 weeks, two days, 8 hours (and at the time of writing this word, 7 minutes) have passed since you were last here with me.  The last 2 weeks have gone by, with each Monday coming and going with me intending to write you a letter, but the weight of grief disabling my intention.  There is still such a heavy breath-crushing grief that happens.  Over the last two weeks, FOUR more CDKL5 siblings went to be with you.  Maybe you already knew that? Perhaps you were part of the welcoming committee for them?  Maybe there is a place in heaven where you meet with all of those who had a CDKL5 mutation and you get to celebrate with all you are all able to do now?! That brings happy and sad tears to my eyes simultaneously. On the same note, my heart, albeit numb from all of the loss CDKL5 brings, has broken more.  So much so that I had to take the stomach meds that I haven't had to take since you were here and my stress was insane.  It doesn't help that we are coming up on Thanksgiving, which has been tainted since the last one you were here for when aba had to rush to Florida because Saba went into a coma.

We are also 4 days away from your brother being your exact forever age.  As I was laying with him tonight, playing with his hands, I wondered if yours were really just as small. I thought about holding his up to your handprints, but that would just make things worse for me.  I thought about the last time I laid down with a child his age, it was you, and at this exact age, you were dying.  We snuggled non-stop for the last two weeks of your life.  In fact, I didn't even go outside, I had no idea it was cold until I placed you on the gurney.  I am stuck because there is a part of me that should be relishing my last baby being four and turning five, but I am just counting down the days until he is finally five and I don't have to be haunted by these beautifully horrible memories of you. I should be thankful, after all, everyone wants their children to stay young forever, and I will always have a forever four-year-old.  It won't matter how many years continue to go on. 

For the last two weeks, I haven't been able to muster the strength to compose a letter to you.  The reality is that to write you a letter means I have to allow myself to feel all of the emotions that I have ignored during the previous week.  When it becomes too much, I skip it altogether.  The problem is that when another week goes by, more weighted grief is added on.  The burden becomes suffocating, and the only option is to force me to deal with it all. I know that is healthier, but at the time it seems easier to push it off. 145 weeks has taught me, it is not. 

The last two weekends we have actually been home. It has been nice (and also short-lived, as your sister and I head to NY for the weekend, again).  This past week aba and I went to a smile on seniors Chabad cocktail event.  I have to admit, and this will be the first time I will be saying my thoughts out of my head, being around that community makes missing you harder.  The best thing you did for us was flood 19th street.  It is so incredibly hard to be around all those people who were there during your life. It probably doesn't make much sense, but does anything when it comes to your death? I managed to fake my way through it all, even with smiles and laughter.  My motto always was "fake it 'til you make it" (it is one I have successfully mastered). 

This week your brother finally graduated from Goldfish at swim!  It only took him 3 years to move out of that level. Not to compare but your other siblings were far more advanced when it came to being around the water. It is ok, he is just ensuring we stay a Hubbard family for another 10 years.  On that note, I have been looking at older pictures more over the last two weeks and you have so many with coach Ed. It is impossible to comprehend you are both not here, but I do hope you are swimming together! Your floats are still hanging in the same spot, on the same hooks, I wonder if they are ever used?

Over the last two weeks, I (accidentally) clicked on a video of one of your seizures.  It was 2 minutes long and I was locked on it for 1:04 until I couldn't keep watching. It made little sense because my eyes filled with tears over thinking how I hate watching you seize and I never want to see you seize again, to missing both?! Can something please make sense?! I wouldn't wish for you to be here just for me to watch you seize but reiterates that you are gone.  Again, this is a fact my brain is well aware of, but one my heart still tries to grapple with. 

Anyway, baby girl, I will do my best to write to you on time this coming week. I know I have intentions of writing more, we will have to see how it plays out. Have a great week.  Enjoy your freedom! Come and visit! I miss you a lot!!!

Until next time.

Love always, 

Ema  

143 weeks

Dear Sonzee, 

Hi baby girl!  How are you? (I feel like I haven't asked in so long).  Today marks 143 weeks that have passed without you here. That is a lot of Monday's.

Last week was spirit week at FBC. I missed mix matched day, but then got into the spirit mood for the rest of the week.  That included western day, 70s-day, and costume day.  It was fun!  We had Fall Fest, west valley went to the Swift offices and trick or treated and then had a cute setup at school with a fall theme.  It was so much fun to take the kiddos. One of our friends had her Tobii and it said, "trick or treat" and then went on repeat and it was the cutest thing.  All of our friends had a programmed switch of some sort that said, "trick or treat".  The entire time we walked the halls I was thinking about how the kids cannot eat most of the candy they were being given, but I guess it is the thought that counts? You used to love these school days!

Tzvi had a hockey tournament over the weekend. He played well overall, but the team definitely struggled.  They ended the weekend only winning one game.  I tried to tell Tzvi they don't always have to be all or none.  It is like they either win first or are in a consolation game, they need to work on that.

I did my first full week of working out! I did some competitions on my apple watch, and it was really motivating.

Yesterday, Noam and I went to visit you and bring you a lot of rocks. I still have more to paint for you, but we picked up some more rocks to take home to be sure to take care of that.  I also brought you the little ladybug that Mimi's mom sent for you and the gorilla soapstone I got for you while we were in Chicago.  I finally brought you, your first day of 2nd grade rock, which by the way still confuses me and makes me have to recount the years. The cemetery is so much fuller than it was 2.5 years ago. I know that makes sense, but it is just so weird to see. So many painted rocks now because of you. It is really nice to see.  Noam and I walked all around, with him asking me "who is here?" near the majority of the plots. He also was trying to grasp this whole under the ground thing, which he has been trying to do since he was 2. He asked, "Where is Sonzee in the ground", I said, "right here" and pointed to your stone. Then he asked how you got in the ground. I told him that the ground was dug up and then you went in. He then asked if you were sleeping and if it was dark. I told him yes, it is dark, and I am really unsure what you are doing. (It is the truth, and honestly, with his age and the whole death concept I worry that using sleeping will carry over to when he goes to sleep, and I don't want to go down that path.  It is similar to when he asks how you died and if you were sick, which is another word I refrain from using so he doesn't associate sickness with death.  It is tough for sure!) He also asked about your friends. It is hard to answer that because I assume you are with your friends, but I just don't know, so I say a lot of "I don't know buddy".

Anyway, November is tomorrow.  I cannot believe in 28 days, 3 years ago your brother turned 2 and in 28 days from today he will be older than you ever got to be.  Send me some extra love and signs this month please. I feel like I am already falling apart while I pretend to try and keep it together.

I love and miss you a lot!

Love always, 

Ema

142 weeks 1 day 10 hours and 25 minutes

Dear Sonzee, 

Another Monday and Tuesday. My heart continues to beat, but sometimes I wonder how it can with all the pain it feels. This last week brought your sisters and me to New York. I am still trying to recover from the red-eye flight and lack of sleep from all the late nights.  It was really nice for me as well as your sisters.  

New York was cold, but honestly, this morning in Phoenix was colder.  By the end of the day though I wore shorter sleeves walking to pick up your siblings in beautiful low 70-degree weather. Bear Pines is literally below freezing. I see snow for the first time on the 10-day forecast and it might align with our one weekend not currently sold in November, so I may have to jump on and block the dates. 

This week has me wondering more about what you might be up to and have been up to over the last 142 weeks. I wonder what you can't do because I am sure there isn't much.

This upcoming weekend is another tournament for Tzvi.  It is in Scottsdale and Laeya mentioned it has been a while since we have been to visit you so since we will be in the area we should go.  That is now the plan.  Maybe I will have some time to work on some more rocks for you. 

I started to work out this past week. I know, it is something we never thought I would do, but life has been filled with a lot of nevers. It actually came about because of you. As I was feeling extra down about things HopeKids sent an email about a free membership subscription to an online gym with workout classes. I took it as a sign from you and not only have I joined, but I am on day 2 of week 2 of my 8-week program and I am excited to see the end results. Thanks, baby girl!

We are getting closer to dates I have been dreading since you left, I will take all the signs you are able to send me because I am going to need a lot of them.  One month and 3 days until the little man turns 5, and 3 weeks and 5 days until he is 4 years 11 months, and 23 days. It is a mixture of happiness, sadness, fear, uncertainty, and gratefulness. Just come and sprinkle an extra dose of Sonzee strength dust on me these next few weeks, please.  Also, maybe pop into Laeya, she has been having a rough time lately and I am sure she could use a visit from you as well.

Anyway, little bear!  I love you and miss you so much! Come and visit, please!

Until next time. 

Love always, 

Ema

129 weeks and 2 days

Dear Sonzee, 

This last week was the last week that aba was in vacation village for the summer.  He and Tzvi will spend the next 10 days in Israel and then go back to Phoenix so Tzvi can get back on the ice. The week was filled with a lot of yummy lunches and dinners.  We also got to see Laeya on Sunday.  It was amazing to give her a hug and kiss, and then sad to send her back to camp, but, she is happy so that is what matters.  It is amazing after just a month of her being gone how I felt reuniting with her.  It makes me wonder how it will be to see you, again, hopefully, one day. 

This last week I had another panic attack. It made it the 2nd one over the last couple of weeks and the first ones I have experienced in the previous 6 months or so.  I am pretty sure the culprit was grief, but I cannot confirm or deny that guess.  

Someone who had not seen us since the last summer you were here asked me excitedly about you.  I paused for a moment and then told them you are no longer with us. I felt so sad for them.  Me, I have known you have been gone for 2 years 5 months, and 24 days.  They just found out this information.  It breaks my heart to have to break someone else's.  It was in the middle of the night after this conversation that I had my panic attack. I find the ones where they wake me from my sleep with the squeezing headache to be the worst type.  Especially when there are no dreams to accompany them.  It took me a good 3 days to finally relax, but I can tell even days later that anything could send me back.

Bubbie, pop-pop, and Max came to visit us last shabbos. Maxi is the cutest dog and I bet he would have snuggled up against you as he tried to chew your feeding tubes and cords.  It would have been a blast trying to keep him off of you.  It was a very nice weekend and the weather was so beautiful we spent so much of it outside on the deck looking at the lake.

On Monday we picked up Meena and Tzvi from sleep-away camp. Meena absolutely loved it, while Tzvi was his typical "I am never going back there" self. That conversation ended with yes he will be and he can decide to have fun during it or not, his choice.  He made some new friends, they even came to celebrate his birthday with us at the water park before he left for Israel.  That made my heart happy.

Anyway baby girl.  As always, I miss you so very much! Be safe, and keep having fun!

Until next time. 

Love always, 

Ema

learning...

7 songs have played on my "Sonzee blogging" playlist.  I have written words and erased the majority of them.  The tears, they want to come, but I keep holding them back for some reason.  I know I shouldn't.  Deep down I know it's the reason I have experienced two panic attacks within the last two weeks.  The ones that wake you from your sleep and bring on a headache that feels like someone is squeezing your head with a very tiny rubber band.  The ones that take at least 24-48 hours to fully recover from, despite attempting to will the cortisol levels in your body to readjust themselves.  Yet despite those best efforts, what's more likely to happen is for the levels to rise again because something (simple) happened that you weren't expecting, like someone speaking when you have your back turned. 

Grief.

It really never goes away. Or maybe it takes longer than 2 years 5 months and 21 days?  The whole learning to live with it concept is quite honestly horrible, and my ability with it fluctuates.  I (naively) thought that maybe I was getting ahold of it.  I thought maybe with life moving forward, maybe with the time passing, maybe with parts seeming normal that I was starting to "learn to live with it".  But then it feels like utter chaos as I try to combat the feeling of being completely mentally unstable.  One minute I can feel like I have this whole learning to live with grief concept mastered and the next I am taken out at my knees. I want to imagine that the pit in my chest and the tears in my eyes will one day permanently pause if I was actually accomplishing any ability to learn to live with it.  Maybe "learning to live with it" is simply acknowledging its always-ever presence?  Maybe accepting the pit and the tears are what I need to do to learn?

I'd rather not.

12 songs have played. I'll allow the tears...for now.  I will admit this journey is complicated, that there isn't a one size fits all.  Maybe what I have learned in 2 years is that grief is hard to live with. I will give myself grace while I sit outside and let the wind wrap itself around me, pretending it is her coming to give me a hug because G-d knows I could surely use one of those from her. 

126 weeks and 1 day

Dear Sonzee, 

Today is July 5. Two days after another month without you and one day after another Monday.  This week seemed to go by quicker, but it was also tougher in terms of emotions. This week, I found myself having a few of those "smack me in the face" moments of if you were here.  If you were here things would be so much different, so much so I cannot really make out an image of what it would actually look like. I have tried to imagine what if you were with us in this lake house with 12 stairs up to the top.  I have tried to imagine what if I had to push you in your wheelchair up the hill to the Husarsky's or to the camp house multiple times a day.  I have tried to imagine what if you were here for the summer with Noam.  Would you have ever been accepted into Camp HASC?  Would you have ever been considered "less complex"?  Would I have finally convinced Nurse Paige to spend the summer here with us and have her take you to camp?

This week we drove to uncle, Hay-Hay, and baby Isla again.  Would we have done that twice in one week if you were still here?  Would I have been able to be on newborn baby night duty if you were here? Miss Malka and I have done a couple of runs to different stores, but otherwise, I have been kicking my feet up on the sofa and watching Disney nature videos.  I even took a nap, during the day.  Sure there are a lot of things I would like to be getting done while I have the time, but I am starting to master this whole relaxation thing and it is probably better for me than crossing items off of a to-do list that isn't time-sensitive.

This week we received our first letter from camp. Surprisingly it was from Tzviki and he even said "camp is good".  I feel so relieved reading that considering it took until today for a candid shot to catch him smiling.  I am convinced he purposely doesn't smile and ignores the camera on purpose just to stress me out.  Thankfully the photographer caught three of him smiling and happy. I also sent him a love note email explaining I wouldn't refill his canteen money if I didn't see a smile, tonight it has been given a boost. Laeya lost her glasses in the camp lake.  Well to be fair, she gave them to the lifeguard who placed them on the dock and they weren't there when Laeya went to get them back.  Poor girl cannot see without them, hopefully, her new pairs arrive tomorrow.  (She of course left her backup pair in Phoenix).  Meena's camp mom sent me a request for more skirts, so I will either be driving there in the morning to drop them off or sending them UPS, I haven't decided just yet.  Otherwise, the two of them have been smiling ear to ear every day. 

On Sunday we visited a new farm, it was actually called a homestead.  They had so many activities and so many adorable animals.  Noam was obsessed with the baby goats and ducks (as were aba and I).  They had wagons and little kid tractors and cars sitting around to be used.  The minute Noam grabbed a wagon my heart stopped.  It came out of nowhere, the reality that you should have been there with us.  He pulled the wagon around a bit before he found a kid-sized John Deer and then left us to go and play.  My eyes caught sight of a hammock perfectly located amongst the trees just blowing in the breeze.  It called me over and I laid on it for a bit.  For one of the first times on this grief journey, I let the tears just fall down my face only to wipe them as they reached my chin.  I repeated in my head that I should just let the grief wash over me and reminded myself that it is better to grieve at the moment and not to suck it up and pretend that I was okay.  I told myself what so many others have said to me, it is easier to be in the moment, so on the 2-year and 5-month anniversary of you being gone, I took the advice.  I am unsure if it made anything easier, but it did make me feel better to let it out vs keep it in.  I have kept it in enough to know it wouldn't have stayed in for much longer and so on the spot I am sure you would have swung with a smirk on your face, head tilted towards the sky leaning into the breeze, I let myself be wrapped up in your amazing breezes and allowed the tears to fall. 

Anyway baby girl.  The tears I am sure will continue and I will be better about allowing them their right to do so.  I hope you come and visit me!  I hope you are having an amazing time wherever you are.  I hope you are flying and free!

Until next time.

Love always, 

Ema