Sometimes

Sometimes, Princess, I wonder what it's like to be you.

One year, three months, and six days ago, you and I had the most difficult conversation either of us have probably had in our entire lives.  A conversation I'd feared would eventually happen for over seven years.  A conversation that confirmed my worst fears.

I will never forget a single detail about that day, or that conversation.  Months later, I was asked how I remembered all the details of that conversation, and I responded, unequivocally, "I will never forget a single word.  I can't."

A sick feeling settled in my stomach that day that didn't go away.  It got better with time - and distraction - but it never completely went away.  Once I knew the truth, I couldn't pretend otherwise.

To this day, things randomly remind me of the immense feelings of that day.  Fear.  Anger.  Disgust.  Heartbreak.  To this day, sometimes, it feels as though I'm living the whole ordeal over again.

Then I remember.  I am the lucky one.  For me, it was just a conversation - albeit the most troubling one I have ever had.  For me, it was only your words that will stick permanently in my mind.

For you, it is your life.  

As much as I'll never forget that day, that conversation, neither will you... and nor will you forget the events that brought it about.  You don't simply have to live with the memory of the words, how they made you feel, but with the horrible memories.

So when something brings me back to that day, makes me feel like I'm living the horror all over again, I wonder... do you experience the same thing?  Do things remind you, sometimes, of what you've been through?  Do you lie awake at night like I do, unable to get the horror out of your head?

My heart breaks when I realize I know the answer.

I remember, a couple years ago, when we all still shared a room, hearing you cry in your sleep.  Rousing you from your nightmares and finding you confused to realize you were in a safe place with someone who loved you, and that this time, the terror was only in your dreams.

Yes, you remember.

And then I think how sorry I am.  Sorry for what you went through.  Sorry that even when you entrusted me with your secret, I couldn't help you.  Sorry that while I live with the memory of that conversation in my head every day, popping back up at opportune moments, you live with the real memory.  The memory of what happened... sneaking up on you all the same.  Sorry that I couldn't put a stop to the chance that something like this might happen to you again.

But then I realize - you're strong.  You're one of the strongest people I've ever known, little as you were.  Stronger than I am, for sure.  When I fell apart... you held it together.  What other choice did you have?  When I cried and asked God "Why?", you just kept going on... no need to dwell on the "why" of a situation you couldn't change.  When I felt as though my joy had been stolen, you went on to find it again wherever you were.

You'll be okay - because you're a survivor.

I just wish you didn't have to survive so much.

I wish you never had those moments that I have, where something hits a little too close to home and brings it all crashing down around you again.

I wish I could shoulder the whole burden for you.

I wish you'd had a chance to just be a kid... none of this weighing on your mind.

But I can't change those things.

So I'll just wait.  Wait here for you, the same place you left me.

Until you come home.

And then we'll make all new memories... and fight the monsters in our nightmares together.

I love you, princess.  Keep your head up, like you always do.  Even when it gets hard.

And I'll keep trying... to be as strong as you.

Pretty Picture

Dear Princess,

I haven't written to you in a long time, besides last night.  I'm sorry.  Sometimes it's just too hard, and I know I have to stay strong so I can be here for you when you come home.  But lately, for some reason, I've just been up late every night thinking of you, and wanting to tell you so many things.

Today I spent all day across the street at Shannon's house with her, Mike, the kids, and our friend Hayley and her family.  We had a brief conversation that made me think of you and choked me up, and when I came home, I was still thinking of you, and thinking of how even in the short couple of months you knew them, Shannon, Mike and the kids became your family just like they are mine.

When crisis struck for you and me, I relied on Shannon a lot.  She came over as soon as I got home on that last day... she sat with me in the front yard while I cried and talked to a police officer and talked to your grandma.  Friday night after her kids were in bed, she brought me over pizza and pop and an offer to talk, cry, or whatever I needed.  We talked a lot that night, and she made me feel better.  She understood the situation we were in better than anyone, and she told me she knew that you knew that I wanted you, that I was fighting for you... and that you wouldn't forget it.  I needed to hear that so badly.  She spent the next couple days with me... because I just desperately needed to not be alone.

The next time I saw your friends J and N, they were eating lunch at the kitchen table, and J asked to say a prayer.  She said "Bless Mommy and Daddy and Mike and Katie and N and M and grandmas and grandpas and uncles and aunts and everyone we love, and especially pray for A, so she can be safe and come home to Katie's house and play with us some more.... and that's all."  When Shannon looked over I had tears in my eyes.  Your friends loved you so much, that even though they were just kids themselves, they remembered to pray for you.

It was only a couple months ago that I was standing in their kitchen and noticed something.  Your picture, your 2nd grade school picture, was hanging on their refridgerator.  I'd given it to them a while back, so the girls would have it to remember their friend.  I commented "Aww.  It's my baby!" and Shannon told me the picture had been hanging there since I'd given it to her, so that they'd think of you every day.

I was so touched.  Sweetie, as much rotten luck as we've had, we've had good luck too.  We've had amazing people put in our lives.  Shannon and Mike and J and N love you and think about you and pray for you to this very day.  They support me and listen to me when I need a shoulder to cry on because I just miss you so much.  They know the situation we're in better than anybody else, they know how hard it is, and they care.  And just because you're not here right now doesn't mean they've stopped caring.  Not one bit.  They haven't forgotten you any more than I have... and trust me, forgetting you is something I will NEVER do.

So even when you feel alone... like I do sometimes when I miss you so much that I think nobody could possibly understand... I want you to know that you're not alone.  You have people, just like I do, who are thinking of you and praying for you, even if you don't know it... and they'll be right here with me to hug you and welcome you whenever you come home!

Don't forget... I love you like the moon at night... big, and round, and warm, and bright.
I love you, goodnight.
<3 - "Kai"

The Last Day

I think about it all the time.

The last day.

The last hug.

The last words.

The first tears.

I woke up before the sun and put on my brave face before I woke you.

I practiced holding back the fear, dread, sorrow, and disgust that had been festering in me all the day before.

I shook you awake and readied you to leave the place that had been our haven for almost a week.

We said goodbye to the ocean.

I drove us to the shuttle bus.  We climbed in and I buckled you safe in your booster seat.

Every mile we drove closer to the airport, my shoulders felt a little heavier.

We got donuts for breakfast.  The anxiety in my stomach kept me from eating much of mine.

I like to think you had no idea.

I tried not to let on.

We boarded the first plane.  I let you pick, aisle or window.  You picked window.  We watched Florida out of sight.  We played with play-doh.  We watched the sun coming up over the ocean.  We looked through an I-Spy book.  We got drinks from the beverage cart.  You wore your Minnie Mouse ears the whole time.

In a plane, the miles go by faster.

By the time we landed in Washington DC, my stomach had sunk impossibly low.

We got lunch at Wendy's between flights.  You got barbecue sauce with your nuggets.  I couldn't eat, again.

I didn't want to get on the plane.

I kept hoping that somehow it would be delayed, cancelled, diverted.  I didn't care how or why.

It wasn't.

We boarded.  I took a few last pictures.

I hope I'm imagining an edge of nervousness behind your smile.

I know I'm not imagining it in mine.

As I watched the ground grow closer, I drew you near me.

It was time to tell you.

All the feelings I'd been trying to hide all day... you were about to feel them too.

I had tried to keep that from you as long as I could.

I told you that I was going to take you to meet some people.  People that we'd never met before, but I knew they were nice people because I'd talked to them the previous day.

I told you I needed your help.  I told you they could help us, but only if you told them the truth.

You didn't want to.

Maybe I shouldn't have pushed you.

But I did.  I asked you if you wanted them to help us.  You said yes.  I asked you if you would tell them the truth so they could do that.  You said yes.

I wonder if you knew then, or if you didn't know until later, that I was asking too much of you?

I wonder if you knew you wouldn't be able to do what I'd asked?

Wheels touched down.

You told me you just wanted to go 'home'.  "To the cats".  To OUR house.

I told you I did too... but we had to tell the people the truth first.

This time I wasn't the only one carrying a weight of stress on my shoulders as we walked through the airport.

It was palpable how there was no longer any distance between us and that which we feared.

I was afraid to let you out of my sight even to use the restroom (but I did).

As we sat in the baggage claim waiting for my mom, the stress mounted.

I tried to lighten the mood, playing games with you, chatting about things of little consequence.

Minutes lasted for days.  I wished them away.  I wanted to get the hard part over with.

Now I wish I had those minutes back.

When my mom finally came, we both hugged her.  You told her, too, that you wanted to go home to the cats.

She, too, reassured you that we would... we just had one stop to make.

I wonder if your palms sweated like mine did on that car ride.

We walked into the building together.  I asked for someone to help us.  They tried to send us away.  I begged.  I insisted.

Things didn't go as planned.

I had wanted you to feel safe.  Safe enough to share the burdens of your heart.

You knew you weren't.

I tried to hide the phone calls from you.  The angry voices.

It was because of that that I almost missed the last hug I gave you.

A woman came out to take you to a room to talk.  Her name was Katie too.  I remember telling you that if her name was Katie she MUST be our friend.

I gave you a hug.

I told you I loved you.

I watched you out of sight.

You didn't want to go without me.

You were scared.

I pushed you too much.

No matter how much you might have wanted to do what I'd asked, your secrets stayed locked away.

The woman came back without you.

She told me you hadn't told her anything.

She told me we would have to leave.

Without you.

I asked her if I could say goodbye to you.

"I don't think that's a good idea," was her response.

She told me you were already crying for me.

I broke.

Panic struck me.  Terror.

I begged her to protect you.  To tell you I loved you.

She said she would.

I clung to my mom and cried.

She, too, demanded your safety.

We were given a chance to gather a few of your belongings to give to you.

I was shaking.  I wasn't thinking clearly.

I don't even remember what was in the bag.

I gave it to the woman named Katie.  I asked her again to make sure you knew we loved you.

Then I did the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life.

The hardest thing I will ever do.

I walked out of that building without you.

As we walked down the sidewalk, my mom and I, a thought crossed my mind.

Another time.  A time when I had been on the inside of a window similar to the ones we were walking by.  A mimed reassurance.

I turned to look in the windows just in time.

There you were.

Behind two inches of glass.

Sitting stiffly in a chair, alone.

Looking right back at me.

When you saw me you stood, and came to the window.

I immediately stopped the flow of my tears and forced a smile.

I pointed to my eye.

Then I crossed my arms.

Then I pointed at you.

You pointed to your eye.

You crossed your arms.

You pointed at me.

Then you held up two fingers.

I touched my fingers to the glass.

You touched your fingers to the glass.

I tore my body from where it was cemented to the ground.

I waved.  I mouthed "bye-bye".

I forced another smile.

Then I turned away.

I walked to the car.

I cried all the way home.

I failed you.

I'm sorry.



A hug of reassurance.

A signed 'I love you' through two inches of glass.

A flood of salty tears.

And that was the last day I spent with you.

Confessions

I have to confess something.



I hate this time of year.



The holidays are hard for me.



I don't care for the Halloween costumes, candy, buckets and decorations.



I hide out alone on Trick or Treat night.



I get sick of seeing and hearing "I'm thankful" everywhere.



I even hurt, seeing stores stock up with Christmas trees, twinkly lights, colored papers and toys for every child's wish list.



I hurt going to the mall and seeing the line of squirming children waiting to see Santa.



I dread going to events, get-togethers, and even just family dinners... and putting on a plastic smile, because I'm not really happy.



I wasn't always that way.



I used to love going to the pumpkin patch.

I used to wait anxiously for Trick-or-Treat night.

I used to have so much to be thankful for.

So much that words weren't even enough to describe it.

I used to love setting cookies and letters out for 'Santa' (even when it wasn't for me anymore).

I relished in creating the perfect scene for 'Christmas morning'.

I even loved the post-Christmas mess left in our living room every year.

But now it's all a painful reminder.


I don't have anyone to take Trick-or-Treating.



There's no one to watch playing at the pumpkin patch.



I lost those for whom I was once most thankful.



There's no one to write letters to Santa or pose for photo ops.



No one to appreciate the culmination of my efforts on Christmas morning.



Not much point in really making an effort at all.



When everyone else talks about their kids' costumes, handprint turkeys and mile-long wish lists...



I think about my wish list.



And there's only one thing on it.



I just want to see them again.  It's killing me to miss them growing up.



So I'm sorry, in advance, for my plastic smile.



I'm sorry for the times I'll excuse myself to go cry in the bathroom.



I'm sorry I can't be excited with you when you tell me your holiday plans.



This time of year is just too painful right now.



Maybe someday it won't be.



Maybe.