365 Days
365 Days
Written By: Taylor Fairman
It was one of those days. I wake up and in a sort of shock like wave, I realize I hear only silence. No little yells for “Momma” from the next bedroom. No little foot taps running throughout the house, thinking she is being sneaky. No messes or crumbs. None of it. I jump up to walk to her room and swing the door open like a whole new world awaited on the other side. Yep, it did. But, not the world my heart longed for so badly. Just as quickly as the smell of her bedroom comes it goes and is replaced with fear, despair, guilt, loneliness, and deep brokenness beyond repair. My baby is gone. Her room still left with how she left her toys suddenly that last morning and unwashed sheets marked with crumbs still from her last late-night snack, or her zebra laundry basket still full of dirty laundry. It hits me again, she’s not here. “Evie, won’t be back”, a voice in my head repeats and I am stuck in this heavy fog of darkness.
Helplessness.
I lost myself. My identity. My identity as a Momma. My identity as a caregiver, lover, and protector. My identity as I knew and loved was gone along with a piece of my soul the day she left for heaven. I never knew it was possible to be so fused to another person, but maybe that’s the mystery of mothering a child you can no longer hold.
Evie and I did everything together. Dollar tree and “Tardet” were our favorites. I just learned to make it work with every day life and having a mini me as a seemingly single Momma. But, don’t get me wrong, I definitely had to have a few “tarcations” once in awhile. You know, the Target trips that substitute as your vacation until you can get to the actual beach. Hey, as Momma’s I feel like “tarcations” are like our god given gift, right? I mean, who doesn’t love Target. Well, let me tell you, when you can go to Target whenever you want and push your empty cart aimlessly, it doesn’t feel like much of a “happy mini vacation”. Instead, that same empty cart only brings a reminder of the absent little feet that should be brushing against my thighs with each step. Now, I am left with only the sweet memories of our many Target trips together. And yet, as much as I wished that I could trade the shoes I was now filling, the shoes of the bereaved mother, I know that I would never ever trade the opportunity I was given to be Evie Mae’s mother. The only mother she would ever have. I was the only woman in the world to be given that privilege and for that I am forever grateful.
Baby girl, you’ve changed me, entirely, wholly, and irrevocably. Living life is different now. It’s all so different now. Missing you has stripped me to a soul level. You’ve made me richer than ever possible before. These are riches absent of money, but full of life and full of love. I’ve learned that true strength and courage arises when you’ve experienced searing loss and cannot imagine carrying on. They say that only in the darkness can you see the stars, and while I have learned so much in the dark, I always saw the stars more clearly in your eyes. Thank you for letting me love you, hug you, cuddle you, and kiss those beautiful chunky cheeks for four wonderful years my sweet angel.
