An Unexpected Journey

Peanut butter and honey sandwiches.  It’s amazing how good the simple things can taste when you are really hungry.  It’s the first time I have had peanut butter on a sandwich since Makiah died.  Peanut butter in any form was her favorite food, and I just couldn’t bring myself to eat it.  Until today.  And it was good.  And I think she would have smiled. There are a lot of things that I locked away and wouldn’t, couldn’t  do since she left us.  I wish I could say that I was quoting scripture and saying faith promises as I dug my way through the heavy dirt of the first year’s grief.  But I didn’t.  In fact, I didn’t really read my bible for an entire year.  A verse here and there maybe, but I just couldn’t seem to bear to read it.  The promises rang hollow, and it felt as though the words were mocking me.  But this January I decided something had to change in me or I would wither up and die inside.  Well, actually...

Dearest Makiah, Mommy and Daddy were there for both.  Your coming into this world and your going out.  Both were painful and messy- although in very different ways- but how beautiful were the moments in between!  Four years, four months, and twenty eight days of precious minutes.  Full of diapers and sillies and tears and messes.  Mermaids and "tiny fings."   Trips to the "liberry" and dreams of princess hair that "went all the way down to the bottom!"   Tickles in your "armpicks," peanut butter on a spoon that was "galicious" and veggies that were "asgusting." Memories pressed deeply into your mommy's heart.  Even if the details slip away when my mind is old and worn, the love of you is permanently engraved. Makiah.  Makiah Kaitlyn King.  You told me often that you wanted people to call you by your whole name, silly girl!  Your name is special to my heart.  Makiah comes from a Hebrew name (spelled Macaiah) found i...

I pushed it down all week.  Deep inside I shoved the words.  I ran from the image.  Several time it seized my thoughts, but I shoved it away with the power of distraction.  Until today.  I am alone.  The ride home from work.  No one to distract.  No tv or Facebook.  No demanding cries.  The radio can't seem to play loud enough. Wailing escapes and my defense crumbles.  The memories triggered.  The brakes and the crunching.  The goodbye I cant escape.  The little one I cannot find. The lawyers have been to visit the impounded cars again this week.  She said she could not help but cry when she looked inside.  Shattered windows.  Cobwebs now growing.  But they are still there.  Her pink sparkly flip flops.  The ones she wore that day.  A sign of my princess and her life and glittering love.  Now sitting in the mass of tangled metal and mildew. A reflection of this journe...