It's been 22 months since we lost our first baby girl. If there is anything I have learned during that time it's that grief is inconsistent. It comes in waves. It's like riding a roller coaster with a blindfold on. Just yesterday one of my dearest friends asked me how I was doing. I told her that I was doing well. I meant it. I've been on one of the good waves for several weeks.
Then, there was tonight.
See, my sweet middle child has his "share day" tomorrow at preschool. When he brought home the "share bucket" last week, he immediately gathered items that he wanted to take with him on Monday to share with his class- I knew what he was doing, but hadn't gone through to look at his collection. Tonight, Olivia knocked over the bucket and broke his Lego spaceship that was safely packed in the bucket and as I was picking up the pieces, and his blue blankie that was also packed in there, I noticed a little something. This wallet-sized photo of our Ava.
My sweet boy wanted to share his sister with the class.
After telling my hubby about the discovery, we decided to ask Jonah to come down and talk to us about it (he was already tucked into bed). I told him that Olivia had broken his spaceship and he said, "That's okay. I can fix it." As we pulled out the pieces and the blanket, he was looking around for the picture. He had been so intentional about putting it in there. It had fallen to the floor; he quickly scooped it up and said, "and I wanted to take this picture of baby Ava." I gently reminded him of this month's theme for the share bucket "Something You are Thankful For," and suggested that we make sure the items in the bucket are things he is thankful for and he so sweetly said, "I am thankful for baby Ava, but she died."
What do I say to that? How precious is his big brother heart that he so loves her and wants to honor her memory and share her with others. We talked a bit more and he told me he had forgotten to include a picture of her when they were supposed to bring pictures of their family (back in September). This mommie's heart was broken, yet so full, too. I was in awe of his tenderness, touched that he still thinks of her, so proud that he wants to share her- but, what heavy stuff for a preschooler to process.
Grieving is hard, but it's healing, too. Tonight was a reminder that Jason and I are not grieving alone. I think these moments are good... incredibly difficult, but so good. God has been faithful to hold us together on this roller coaster; my boys have seen that firsthand. We also have the promise of heaven when we'll all get to be with Ava again- and Jonah's last question of tonight, "What would it be like if there were four of us (kids)?" will finally be answered.
