This is Mrs. Parker, who I work with at my school. She was Brittany's first grade teacher, and has become a very dear friend of mine. She released one balloon for every year she has known us.

Nizhoni, one of Brittany's favorite cousins.

This was taken by a friend of mine from out of her window. The little black speckles are the balloons from when we released them at the park.

The children of Joann Funk in St. George

This is the banner the cousins on the Lacy side of the family made for Brittany for this special day. We have it now in our home, and I love every little detail of it.

My sister, Teresa and her husband Drew. They even have a little one to represent their little boy.

Trecia's balloons right before she let them go.

These next few pictures are of the family that used to live next door to us. They were very close to not only John and I, but each of our kids. This one is Makayde

Kinsley

Regan

The boys, Chantrey and Tanyon

Andrea went to high school with me. She and her mother have been so kind and supportive to me even though I haven't seen them in almost 20 years. These balloons were let go in Denver.

The children of my dear friends Ashley and Geoff. They let their balloons go in California.

The one with the bottle is Brittney, she is the daughter of a long time friend of mine, Becky. The two met several years ago when James and Becky still lived in Blanding. They now live in Alaska, and "going to town" is a bit of a ride. They had bought balloons the day before, but they had gone flat by the time the day of the balloon release came the next day. So, in they sent a message in a bottle instead. I loved the idea so much I later used it with my own family.

Johns sister Crystal and her family in Santaquin

Two of my friends from work and church, Claire and Lindsay with her kids.

The Lacy family in Blanding. They all got together to make a banner and release balloons as a family.

Andrea, Allen, and Myah in Price

Rachel was in Salt Lake on the day we released balloons. She was eating at a restaurant where the roof can open up, so she asked if she could release a balloon for Brittany through their roof.  I love the creativity of so many of these! 

My parents in Mantua, my dad added lights to theirs since it was dark outside by the time they were able to release theirs.

Jane, a dear sweet friend I have recently made. She and her family let theirs go in Texas.

*Written on Facebook Nov. 20, 2013*

What NOT to say to someone who has lost a child.

* this is my own personal opinion. There may be some who see things differently than I do. And it also doesn't help much that I'm cranky tonight, I've just heard to many of these this week, so this is my way of venting.*

DON'T say:

"she's in a better place"... I KNOW she's in a better place! But if your child was gone for several months to live at Disney World, even though that place is "better", don't you think you would still miss your child? Wouldn't you long to hear about what they are seeing and all the memories they are making?

"She wouldn't want you to be sad"... I know she wants me happy, but I can't just turn off the grief and pretend it's all ok, when it's not. And in all reality, I think she is understanding of why I am sad. Me being broken hearted isn't letting her down or disappointing her any, it's feeling the feelings that will be there whether I show them or not.

"let me know if there is anything I can do"... that's mostly irritating from those I hardly even know. If I don't even know your first name, let alone a way to get in touch with you, do you really think I'm going to call you very first when I "need something"? And that is such a vague statement too. what do you really mean by that? Are you going to go get me a Coke when I'm stuck at work and craving one? Are you going to make me dinner when I just don't care let alone have the motivation or energy to do it? When all I feel like doing is screaming and crying until I black out, are you going to be there to hold me and calm me? Because quite frankly, I don't ever ask for help, especially at those times. And do you really think I'm going to be able to call and say "hey, you know how you said to call if I need anything? Well, I'm really thirsty. Wanna get me a Coke for me? I'm stuck at work and can't go get one."

"it'll get better"... How do you know? So far, it has only gotten worse. The longer I go on without her here the bigger the hole in my heart gets. How do you know it will get better? There are some that have gone through what I have, and some have said that it does get better, and some say it doesn't. I guess we'll just have to wait and see. Not like anything can change the way things have become.

"Families are forever"... I know, I know. They are, they can be. But right now, every minute feels like forever. So until then "forever" feels like forever away. Is it really that selfish of me to wish she could still be here?

"She must have been so amazing for God to have called her home so early"... She WAS amazing!!! SO amazing! But what made her amazing wasn't why she died. Not many care about her LIFE that made her amazing. I have no doubt that she is doing amazing things in heaven right now, but let not forget that she was amazing long before she died.

"you are so strong"... strength has nothing to do with it. It's not strength, it's survival. And barely surviving at that. I have had so many people tell me that they just couldn't handle losing a child, and that they admire me for what I have gone through. I didn't ever want to lose Brittany. I fought so hard for her. The dr's fought for her life just as much. I didn't sacrifice her life to emulate my "strength". A year ago, I would have said the same thing, that I could never handle losing one of my children. But I did. Others have too. I didn't ASK for this. But for my other children, yes, I am trying my best to survive the best I can. I am doing everything, with every ounce of me to give them as "normal" of a life as I can.

"When are you going to start living again".... I'm doing the best I can. I know I'm not the same as I once was. And I never will be! A part of my heart died that day as well. I can't just bandage it up and go on like nothing ever happened. Would you ever ask someone who has had their leg amputated, and still in the hospital "when are you going to run again?" Yes, I hope some day they can run again. But first they have to heal. They have to endure tremendous amounts of physical therapy, and they will need to be fitted for a prosthetic. I'm still trying to heal. It hasn't even been a full year yet!!! I'm going to need some time. And if it's just not fast enough for them, they are welcome to go on without me.

"I know how you feel, my mom/grandma/dog died too"... I have had relatives die too. Ones I have been very close to, and that I miss all the time. But losing a child doesn't even compare. It just doesn't!!! I appreciate that they are trying to empathize with me, but no, you don't know how I feel. Unless you are some of the few that have lost a child as well (and for you, my heart goes out to you!!!) you, thankfully, you DO NOT know how I feel.

"I'm afraid that if I mention her or say her name it will make you sad or cry"... well, it's not like I'm not already thinking about her all the time anyway. You mentioning her is not going to make me all of a sudden remember that she is gone. And yes, maybe I'll cry. But I cry anyway. I would rather cry and have someone talk about her in a loving and caring way than to avoid the subject.

Some might ask, "what do I say then?" and I wish I had a great answer for that. I wish I knew the words that would take all of the pain and hurt away. I would say them over and over to myself all the time if I did. Mostly, know the depth of your relationship. If you aren't close, don't try to be all of a sudden. Relationships are grown, not assumed. And sometimes, no words are needed. A hug can say so much more that words can. Even silent contemplating together can say more. Let the person talk about their child. Try to find memories of them to share. Memories become the very most valuable thing in the world. The more memories, the better. How many countless hours was Brittany out of my sight? How many countless memories are being stored in someone else's mind that I will never know? Sharing those is the most precious gift anyone could ever give me.

***Update- I do understand that anyone who says anything, has good intentions, and I don't want to belittle that. I don't want any of you to feel afraid to talk to me, in fear of saying the wrong thing. I guess I wrote this just to put out there a little understanding that what sounds good on paper, doesn't always sit well in the heart. I cherish and appreciate every outreach of support I have ever gotten. Like I said before, I'm cranky tonight, and I have always felt like this page is a place I can be genuine and raw, say what I feel just as I feel it without feeling the need to sugar-coat it.

*Written on Facebook November 18*

Balloons take on a whole new meaning for me since Brittany's graveside. We sent some up that chilly afternoon, and since then, it has always been something that helps me feel close to her. I love to write messages to her and watch it float up to the heavens, until I can no longer see it. I would like to think that somehow, Brittany is able to see it, and read it. It may sound silly, I know that's not how it works, but it makes me feel better, so I do it. And now, I'd like each of you to join me!
Next week would have been Brittany's 15th birthday. In honor of her, we will be having a balloon release this Saturday at the Main Street Park at 3:00. For those who are here locally, I would love to see each of you, if you would like to come. For those of you who don't live here, or are unable to make it, we would love for you to join us too! Just release your own balloon at anytime that works for you. You don't have to be a friend of Brittany's, or even a personal friend of mine. If the life she left behind has touched you at all, I would love to have you be a part of this event for her. I would love pictures of you releasing them!!! You can post them here or send them to me personally. I would love to see how far spread the love can go 

Now I get it.

It was on this same day, 11 months ago. Brittany had taken her last breath, but we couldn't bare to walk away from her yet. I had spent the whole night next to her with off and on fits of crying. I would whisper to her all I wanted her to know. I made the realization that when it comes down to it, all that matters, all that I want my kids to know, is that I love them, and am so very proud of them. My mind was a blank as to what else to say, so over and over I told her that I love her. That she will always be a part of my heart, a part of my soul. I told her how happy she had made me, that my life was so much more full because she was a part of it. For hours I whispered to her, almost like I didn't want to disturb her sleep. I wanted her to be at peace, and to feel my love with her heart, not just hear it with her ears.
As family came, and as emotions got the better of me, my body started to go into shock. I can so clearly remember sitting in one of the family waiting rooms. Every seat was taken, and there were still some in Brittany's room, having their own time with her. I sat there, not really looking at anything, and not really thinking either. Somewhere I heard someone ask me when the last time I ate was. It sounded a mile away. I knew they were talking to me, but I didn't feel like I was a part of myself. I couldn't remember the last time I ate. I had skipped breakfast the morning I took Brittany into the Dr, and I never left her side from that point on. But food sounded repulsive. I was encouraged to sleep, but every time I closed my eyes all I could see was my girl hooked up to so many machines. The sounds of each of them echoing in my ears. And the stillness... the quiet... I longed to hear her heart beat again. No, sleep was not a good idea. So John decided I needed some fresh air. Just a few minutes, anything to allow me to connect to life. We were only walking to the parking garage to get something from the car, but on the way there we passed a small remembrance garden. We wondered around very solemnly.
It was early morning at the time. I usually love that time of day. The sun was just starting to warm things up, but we could still see our breath as we breathed in the city air. The hum of traffic, the sounds of birds as they flew by. I can remember it all so clearly. It was then that I noticed for the first time one of the many angels they had in that garden. I had previously thought angles were a bit on the corny side. I thought they were cute, just didn't understand the significance of them. But that first one I saw hit me so hard. It dawned on me that I now had my own angel. Everything in me longed to have something to symbolize how I was feeling, and that angel did that. It was a simple angel, but she was sad. She wasn't sad for her, she wasn't hurting physically. She was sad for those she loved, it was her heart that was hurting. And yet, she was happy too. She was free, and she had so much love. She was what I knew was now how Brittany felt. So now I get it. Now I get why people love angels so much. It's not just because they are cute. It's so much more than that, it's so much deeper than just how they look. It's how they help your heart to feel.

It's her month

It's November 1st... I've been dreading this day for months. This is the the final count down to were all my pain started. November I supposed to be Brittany's month. I should be birthday shopping for her. I should be planning out how to celebrate her birthday with Thanksgiving just the next day. We should be having her start Drivers Ed soon... Maybe it's good for everyone, on this one instance that she isn't taking Drivers Ed! Brittany always had a way of making this HER month. She had an excitement that no one could duplicate. Instead of being excited, I am terrified. Instead of planning a birthday, I trying to plan a remembrance day. When everyone is out having Thanksgiving with cousins and grandparents, we will be eating alone. It is the only way to allow John time to spend remembering Brittany on her birthday, rather than spending the few hours he has after work, traveling.
I also can't think about her birthday without thinking about her being so sick during her last birthday last year. That sickness would eventually get so extreme we would hospitalize her, where she would seize, and be life flighted to Primary Childrens, the place she would end up taking her last breath.
I feel so dumb for being afraid of a month. A month can't talk. A month is just days with a name attached to them. But I am afraid. I am very afraid. I am afraid of what this month holds for me. I am afraid of the pain that I know this month will give to me. I pray for sleep that no longer comes. I pray for peace that I can't seem to find. I pray for the numbness that I felt in the beginning to return, when I know that it won't. I pray that I can hide my feelings from others, even though they can already see it in my eyes. I pray for so many things that I know I just can't have.

She trusted me

I think one of the hardest parts about being a parent to a teenager, is hoping your child will trust you, and come to you at any time they may be in trouble. One hopes that this time of trouble will never happen, but prays that if that time does come, their relationship is strong enough that the child will feel safe enough to ask for help from you.
A year ago tonight, I was able to know that Brittany and I had that strength of relationship. Because of what happened I was able to not only hope Brittany loved and trusted me, I knew it. I was able to see from her that she would come to me in a difficult situation. She would trust me to help her and love her through it. For her, I was able to show her that she would always come first. That I would fight for her, no matter what, and to any extreme. That my love for her would always take priority over anything that this world would throw at us.
At the time I was so upset, so mad, and so hurt for my girl. But now, I'm just grateful for that chance to know that we had that relationship that you always pray you can have with your kids.

Waiting for my real hug

Today I had an appointment right after work that I was rushing out the door to. It was turning stormy so I was looking for a jacket to put on. Being a girl that enjoys "accessorizing" I was looking for my brown jacket that I hadn't worn in a very long time. The last place I remember seeing it was in a coat closet that I don't really ever use. I scrambled through it, and rushed out the door tossing it on as I ran to the car. As I pulled out I felt something prick my wrist. I looked to try to figure out what it was and noticed my inner sleeves were scattered with dry bits of grass and a few thorns from the weeds. Like a wave crashing over me it all came back so sudden... It was this time last year, and Brittany was needing to go to a youth activity. Like the rest of our family always is, she was running late and couldn't find her jacket. Brittany was always very thin and my clothes would drown her out. But I did have one jacket that ties at the waist, so it would probably work. I let her try it on just to make sure, and was impressed at how well it looked on her. It looked so good that I was considering letting her keep it. As she hurried out I remember hoping she would enjoy herself. She wasn't the athletic type at all, and a lot the the activities she went to involved coordination, of which she had very little. She would always feel self conscience during these and worry that she would mess up any team she was on. But she would try and give it her best effort anyway. That night she came home with a big grin on her face, and grass and debris all over. I would have normally been a little upset with her for getting my clothes so dirty, but I was too happy that she had such a good time. I told her to just hang up the jacket for now, we'd wash it later, and to go shower so she could get to bed. In the closet is where it has waited ever since. I have been wearing this jacket the remainder of the evening, knowing her arms were the last ones inside of it. It feels like she is here, embracing me. If only she really could...

Please wake up

My family is very accustomed to going to the doctor. Seems like there is something always going on. You hear this often, but we are seriously not your typical family. We have the most crazy things happen, and we are the kind of family that one of us will get a paper-cut and it will get infected and need surgery to fix it. In the 10 months since Brittany has passed away, we have had to take John into the ER for what we were afraid was a stroke (less than a month after taking Brittany there) Kaitlyn has had to have surgery on a broken leg, and several doctor visits.

Some of these I will post about later, but the most recent "event" was yesterday. My youngest has always had issues with her ears. Because of them, she was quite delayed as a baby. As an example she didn't roll over at all until she was 9 months old. She had tubes put in at 2, but continued to have lots of problems. Yesterday I took her in to have her Adenoids removed and new tubes put in. I was grateful it was being done at the surgical center rather than the hospital. The hospital is still too difficult for me to be able to handle for too long, no matter what area of the hospital I am in. But surgery is still surgery. I was actually doing quite well until we were in the back, getting her prepped. The nurse was going over all the little details and disclaimers they have to warn us about that everyone always tunes out. During this tune out I thought to myself there is always that risk of not waking up... She has to wake up!! What if she doesn't??.... I can't... I CAN'T do this again!!!... I stared at my sweet little girl. She held her fuzzy little blanket she has loved since the day she was born, and clutched tight her "Brittany pillow", with her eyes wide and trusting, trying to understand everything that was being said. In my mind I plead, and begged to her... Please wake up... You can't fall asleep and die.. Please, please! Please wake up for me! She hadn't even laid down yet, and already I was afraid I was going to lose her.

I snapped out of the trance I had put myself in, and forced myself to focus. Just as I did this, the nurse commented on the pillow she had brought with her. So nonchalantly she replied, "oh, my sister died and someone made this for us." For a 7 year old this was all that needed to be said. But what she didn't include was that this pillow was made from the dress we had buried Brittany in. I had cut out the back portion of her dress, so that it wasn't noticeable, and a dear friend used the little bit I could get to make pillows for each of my kids.

These pillows have come to be so precious to us. They continue to rest next to the head of each sleeping child. They are brought to every overnight event. There have been times when it has been forgotten, and as I am about to fall asleep, I hear crying from a daughter because she just can't sleep without it, and has come home to retrieve it. It has become a source of tenderness, and strength.

As I kissed my little girl on her forehead, and they wheeled her back to do their procedure, I fought the tears hoping this wouldn't be my final kiss to my sweet little girl. I watched her little fist grip her pillow. I sat, and I waited. I made the small talk that is expected with other ladies waiting for their little ones as well. My mind was always on my little girl. The relief I felt when I could see into her eyes again, and hear her say my name was overwhelming.

I can never promise my kids that when we go to the doctor they can be fixed and get better. I promised that to Brittany, over and over again, and all it did was turn me into a liar in her last hours. But I can promise I will do everything in my ability to fight for them, and do all I can to protect them.

People lie

There is one thing that I am now an "expert" on. That one thing is grief. In all honesty I really know very little about it in general. My own grief is a whole other story. Yes, I'm an expert with that, but so many people grieve in so many ways, and I'm not about to say that one way is better than another. I only know mine. I have been asked to help with words of comfort for friends who know others that have had to deal with similar heartache. While I can't ever predict how these loved ones will handle their own pain, I am happy to try to help. I don't know if it ever has, or ever will. But I do hope that somehow, my own pain will be able to ease the pain for someone else. It would make Brittany's death a little less cruel. It would have a little bit of reason to it. I had a friend ask me again today how they can help with a sister's pain. This was my response:

"People say it gets better.People lie. Everyday gets worse. And everyday it's for different reasons. One day it will be because I miss her so much I can't breathe, another day it will because I see so much of what she is missing, and wishing so much I could be a part of what is now her life. Then another day it will be because it gets harder all the time to remember how she looks, and what her voice sounded like. Everyone handles this "situation" differently, and has different needs. Some might need to be left alone, others might need someone to stay strong and not cry so that they can cry freely and lean on them for strength. For me, I need people to not be afraid to talk about Brittany, and not be afraid when I cry. I need people to remember HER and all the little things about her. That leads me to what helps me. I need to feel connected to her. I have reminders of her everywhere I turn. I have an Eiffel tower hanging from my rear view mirror, and several in my classroom. I have owl jewelry and figurines. My classroom is decorated in teal, with quotes on the wall that I used with her. I have a necklace at her grave that has a heart pendant that has the words "with you" on it. I have an identical one that I wear. Willow tree's have become very sentimental to me with more meaning that I could have ever thought.

Don't fade away. You would think the very beginning would be the hardest part, but it's not. A few months down the road, she will start to try to figure out her new "normal". She'll look like she's doing good on some days, and will tell you she's "good" but she won't be. She'll be wanting to die herself. Keep talking to her even when she seems good. If she doesn't want to talk, don't make her, but let her always know you are there. If she facebooks much, and you happen to be up in the middle of the night and she's on, make sure she's ok. The lonely hours of the night when everyone else is sleeping and happy, and you can't sleep because you've been crying for hours, are often very dangerous times. In a very gentle way, remind her that as much as she would gladly die for any of her kids, she now has to LIVE for the rest of them. They deserve, more than almost any other child, to have a good and happy childhood with lots of happy memories. And lots of memories with her in them. she can't give up on herself, because she would never give up on her kids. I also find so much peace in music. I have lots of songs that I relate to if you want a list, let me know. There really is no way to take away her pain. Her son is gone, and can't come back. The core of her pain can't be eased because life can't be reversed. I hope that some of the suggestions and my own experiences can help some for you and your sister. One of the very best things I have gained strength from, are the friends I have made in people that have gone through similar heartbreaks. Several of them I have never met. They reached out to me, and we connected through our grief. If that is something that she feels would be helpful, i am MORE than happy to talk or text her anytime!!! Texting was always easier for me, because it was a little more disconnected. Having to form words, and speak them, sometimes was too hard to bare.

Again, this is just my perspective on how these last 10 months have felt. I am not trained on human emotions at all, except through what I have learned through my own life. What works, or feels right to me, might be completely wrong for someone else.

I wish it could be her too

 First day of school Kindergarten

School picture of her last year of school, 8th grade.

 Tomorrow marks the first day of school. I have already seen so many pictures of kids her age going to Freshman orientation, and schedules they have of the upcoming year. I can't help but think... "Brittany should be there!" She should be finding schedules, hoping friends are in the same classes, trying out for different teams and signing up for clubs. She should be wearing new school shoes, and laying out her favorite outfit for the first day. She should be getting her back-to-school haircut, and wondering what color to paint her nails.  Every milestone is a hard one, but this one stings a bit more. It's so hard to see her friends grow up and not have her join them in the ranks. I'm not trying to say I'm not so happy for her friends, because in a way I can watch her grow up through them. But on the other hand, seeing what could have been, what should have been, and yet what will never be, is so difficult for me to deal with.
Brittany's little sister, Kaitlyn will be starting 8th grade tomorrow. I don't know if I'm ready to watch her little sister outgrow her. As she finishes this year, she will have officially surpassed Brittany in education, she will have passed her up on many levels, and that is so hard to think about. All the firsts that I always had planned on being Brittany's will now be Kaitlyn's. I am so happy for Kaitlyn, and all that she has and will be able to do. But she will never replace Brittany, and I don't want her to. I want Kaitlyn to have her own memories, her own identity and her own life experiences. It just doesn't fit the "plan" that we naturally set up as our children were born.

At the most unexpected times and places

It's been just a little over 8 months since Brittany has passed away. When she died, it was in the dead of winter. The bitter cold and short dark days were reflective of how my spirit felt without her. As the days grew longer, and warmer, and the flowers began to bloom, there were more and more days... well, moments... of happier times. This continued through the summer. But this last week I have been able to feel the shift again. If you pay close attention, there is a change in the breeze. It's a little more crisp. The flowers I had at the cemetery have begun to die, their summer season being out lived. I have now replaced most of them with silk flowers. At the store, rather than finding bold, bright, vibrant colored flowers, there are more neutral colors preparing for the fall. This change in the weather is making me sad... It's just a reminder of how much time has passed. Before long, I will be writing on her one year anniversary of not being here with us. Oh, how I don't look forward to that day!
Today is the first day of school for Gateway, the school she was attending last year. I remember her first day of school so well. She wasn't happy to go at all, but there was still that excitement of everything being new. New shoes, new clothes, new pencils she couldn't wait to use, a new backpack, and the potential of everything being different that the year before had been. I was so excited and worried for her that day. It felt like dropping her off for her first day of kindergarten. She never knew I cried after watching her walk out the door to catch her car pool. And here I am crying again wishing I had that day back.
This last month we went to the Lacy family reunion. I knew it would be a difficult one for me, family gatherings always are. Every year we always do some kind of t-shirt. This year we had some made up that had Brittany's Peace Poster on the front, and the lettering for the back was specifically chosen as a the type of writing Brittany used to like to use.

It was a great trip, John and I had done some extra things with our kids before the reunion officially started. On our drive over to Blanding, we drove through Bryce Canyon, and then hiked Calf Creek falls.

One thing we have learned having Brittany pass, is that we need to take more pictures of all our family. There is a quote I saw recently that says "When someone you love becomes a memory, each memory becomes a treasure". That couldn't be more true. It hurts to know of so many times I could have/should have taken pictures of her that I didn't. I search and search, and I am so sad at how few pictures I have of her. So, now we take more. But every time I do, I am reminded that I will never be able to take one of her again.
As I was taking pictures throughout the days at the reunion, I started noticing something. There were hearts everywhere in so many things I saw. I have never been much of a "heart" person. I haven't liked heart jewelry, I don't use hearts in my decor. But Brittany did. A lot. The more I saw the hearts, the more I knew it was her way of trying to tell me she was with us. Looking back, it's almost like it started when I was searching for a signature to use under her peace poster. I wanted a perfect one, and I love that the one I found also had a heart with it.

Memories

~*Memories*~

What do you want from me?

I would do anything,

to bring back those memories,

of the way that we used to be.

Hopscotch, double dutch, bubble gum days,

tree tops, roller skates, dancing in the rain.

Scabby knees, summer breeze, you and me. Memories.

Soda pop, lemon drop, gumdrop, candy shop,

never stop making my world rock. La, La, La

Now all those times are gone.

Somehow everything is wrong.

So now I'm stuck here writing songs, 

I've found that you've been here all along.

The leaves changed color, one way or the other.

We fell right into fall, away from summer.

I want you here with me, I am so lonely.

You are my only memory of when you said you love me.

~Brittany Lacy

     Brittany has so many writings, and I can only go through a little at a time. Usually it takes me weeks before I can go in again because it breaks my heart so much. I had to go in today to look for something very specific of hers, and as I searched I found this poem she had written. Sometimes her writings are so haunting, I wonder if she somehow knew what was going to come.

     The firework picture is one that John took while we were in Brian Head this last 4th of July. I can't help but think Brittany would have talked about this one for days. She was always so mesmerized by the fireworks and all the colors and different designs. This one makes me smile, thinking of her seeing it.

A day to remember

     Memorial Day. A day set aside for those who served our country. I am so proud of each of them who have put their lives on hold, and some who have given their lives for the freedoms of this country. There truly isn't a more selfless act, than to lay down a life for a brother.  But I am glad that this day is also one that we are able to remember so many others who have gone on before us.
     Today is not only Memorial Day for us, it has also been 6 months to the day since Brittany's birthday. That mean 9 days until the 6 months anniversary of her death. It leaves me speechless to think that 6 months have almost past. 2 seasons, several holidays, and almost all of our birthdays. All things she has missed. I am glad that today, we get to celebrate, with so many other families, the lives of those people who have forever changed our own.
     First thing this morning, we all went outside to work on the yard. John worked on the garden with Jenna and Jordan. I planted more flowers, pruned trees, and pulled weeds with Savanah and Kaitlyn. I had one of those moments when I said the wrong name to the right person. I called Kaitlyn, Brittany.  It's hard to catch those moments, and it's sad to think she will never come, no matter how long I call. When I was done outside, I was sitting on the lawn, cooling off in the shade. I smiled as I realized it was the spot Brittany loved to go to read her books on warm summer days. I think today, she would have enjoyed working outside with us. And I think she would have sat in that very spot to cool off, just as I had.
     After going to the nursery for more flowers and plants, we stopped by Wal Mart and got a bundle of balloons. Purple and pink, two of her favorite colors.  Pink, because they didn't have any teal. We then drove to the cemetery. I had brought sharpies, so we could write messages on the balloons. After everyone got a chance to write whatever they felt like, we counted off, and released them together. The mood completely changed as we watched them drift high in the sky. At first, the kids were still a bit edgy, and were continuing the fights that had started in the car on the way. They were unfocused, and just wanted to get it over, so we could go home. But as we watched the balloons, everyone became quiet. There was a peace there that brought tears to my eyes. We hadn't let balloons go since the graveside service, and the same peace that was there then, had returned. There were even two birds that flew across, just like the first time at the graveside service.

     There is something about watching the balloons drift like that. I don't know, maybe I am just imagining things. But I do feel like Brittany is with us every time. And I do think she has a way to be connected during that time. Almost as if she is gently blowing the balloons herself.
     I've thought a lot about Brittany today. I've thought of the things she has missed out on. I've thought of the things we have missed out on too. I wonder what she sees now, how she feels, what she looks like. I wonder how often she is able to be with us, and what she thinks of us. Are we still goofy parents that she rolls her eyes at, secretly loving all the crazy things we do? Does she feel sad for us when we fight? Does she want to wipe away the tears, when the pain is just too much? Does she laugh with us when we tease? Does she inspire us with comebacks that she would have said if she could be here?  Mostly, does she know, how very much she is loved, and missed?

Happy for them, sad for me

     I'm in a tough situation right now. It's one I knew I'd have to face, and I know I will face it many, many times over the next few years. It is the end of the school year. This would have been the end of Brittany's 8th grade year. She would be graduating from Middle School and moving on to High School. I have seen pictures of her friends in new dresses going to the end of the year dance. I see them getting their schedules for High School, and I can't help but feel sad that none of these pictures include Brittany. How would that night have gone with her? How nice would it have been to go shopping for the perfect dress? Would she want me to help her with her hair, or do it all on her own? Which classes would she be taking? Would she be scared, or excited to move on to a new, bigger school? I see life moving on around me, but I still feel stuck in the same moments 5 1/2 months ago. I'm not able to move forward with my daughter. While other mothers are celebrating with their daughters, chatting at night with them to see if that cute boy they have a crush on asked them to dance, I am crying on my pillow remembering how I stroked my baby's hair, hoping she wasn't afraid of what was to come. As these girls giggle and tease, I go to the cemetery to water her flowers. When forms are signed to enroll for High School, I talk to a hard, cold piece of marble, hoping somehow my words can be heard. As these girls, who I truly love so dearly, grow up and become beautiful women, and mothers, my daughter, who is always in every thought I have, slowly decomposes in the ground. 

     Here is just another part of what life is like for me now. I will embrace my other children's lives, and all their achievements. But I can't help but feel the emptiness of what could have been, what should have been.

I hate what death has taken from me. I hate what death has left me with. And at times I hate God for allowing it to happen, possibly even making it happen. 

     There are times, when I feel like Brittany's death really was meant to be. That it was all part of the "plan" from before any of us even took our first breath. But there are other times that I feel we have been forgotten, left alone to fight the night, and the cold all alone.

   On another note, this afternoon, I had gone to the cemetery to water Brittany's flowers and anchor down the flower stand she has. It's very rare there are others at the cemetery while I am there, but with Memorial Day in just two days, there have been an increase in visitors. I watch them silently, wondering what memories they are remembering. Wondering how they heal. And then after a kiss good bye for Brittany, I turn and leave. 

     I had added some more flowers recently, and when John got home from work, I asked him if he'd like to go back to the cemetery with me and see them. It had only been a couple of hours since I had just been there. As we pulled up next to the gate, I noticed right away that there were two new pinwheels placed at Brittany's grave. I quickly glanced the rest of the cemetery, and noticed there were a lot of new pinwheels. I have taken note in the past of other graves of children, and noticed that each of them had pinwheels. These are graves I visit often, cleaning off weeds, replacing flowers the wind has blown over, and just letting that child know someone was there to see them that day. But until now, I had never realized how many there were. Our cemetery is quite small, even with as old as it is. But out of the the entire cemetery, I counted 52 pinwheels, spinning in the wind. That is just how many I counted for where I was currently standing. That doesn't include any that where blocked from my view by other headstones, or that the wind had blown away. It broke my heart. So many young lives. So many babies. So many mothers, fathers, and siblings whose lives will forever be changed. But as much as I was touched with sadness, I was also touched, even more with love for whoever had taken the time, spent the money, and remembered each of those young lives. It made an impression on my heart that I will always remember. That small act of kindness to so many families has helped to heal this broken heart, just a bit. Thank you to whoever you are. Someday I hope to know who you are so that I can hug you, and leave a tear on your shoulder.