Our Missing Girl

Lately we find ourselves missing our missing girl a little more than usual.  A year has passed, twelve swiss cheese months full of random gaping holes.

We know Celia was not more special, and we are not more tortured, than anyone else.  But doesn't every parent feel like their child is utterly unprecedented, like losing one would be the end of the world?  We know we’re not the only family to go through a devastating health crisis, and yet ours is the story we know best.  Our instinct continues to be to bring it here, the beauty and the angst, and we could apologize for regurgitating the same thoughts and feelings, but her influence is all that remains and we're afraid of losing that too.

She's been dead for a year, a symphony of days lived in a variety of tempos and timbres, slow times and minor keys and supersilence.  Without the constant bass line of her care, like the drone note of bagpipes, we didn't realize what had been playing till it stopped, and then the tacet emerged a tangible thing in its own right.  The boys keep us busy and fill our home with noise, and our hearts are always two-thirds full, but some days all we hear is silence, all we feel is one-third empty. 

We are thankful, still, for parts of it.  For the discoveries we made about ourselves and about each other.  For the humbling opportunities to need help, and to accept it.  For the chance to find, if not optimism, at least strength, in the face of adversity.  For the glimpses of beauty we may not have otherwise noticed.  For our child with the spirit of a warrior and the face of an angel.

Writing about it here, over and over, our intention is never for you to feel obligated to illuminate it somehow.  But could you do something to honor her memory today?  Light a small candle or raise a generous glass.  Make a modest donation or do an extraordinary kindness.  By all means, hug your pets and your people.

JEB
The BDSRA office has moved.  Their new address is 1175 Dublin Rd. Columbus, OH 43215