Over time I didn’t find as much comfort spilling all the details about our loss with every stranger, and every person I happened to talk to.
Over time I realized her story, our journey with her… those words… they are gifts that God gave us to share. And not just anyone can handle such love and such grief in a single story. I envy them, but I pity them too.
Over time it became clear that life would never ever be the same. Life would become sweet again. Sweeter, actually, than ever before – but it would be different.
Over time I began to talk about her less and less in real life. I ache to use her beautiful name. Call her from her room, whisper her name as we play hide and seek. Bring her up in conversation with other mommies, to spill some amazing or silly thing she did.
Over time I have found peace with our loss. Not to be confused with being ‘okay’, but peace. Peace is like a song that helps you to sleep at night. And like a wave that overcomes you, when you know you should be far from this place of bittersweet serenity.
Over time I have let a lot of things go. Hurtful comments, mindless accusations, and words that were spoken in haste rather than in thought. Over time they just weren’t worth the space in my heart.
Over time I’ve kept a lot of her stories, and the last few moments close to my heart.
Over time I have learned that it’s okay to smile again. Live again. Breathe again.
But in all the lessons time has brought me, being her mother has never changed.
And as her mother, I’ll speak her name today.
Today is for you, my sweet Jenna.