Capture Your Grief 2015 – Day 7 – Memory

I remember how fragile you were, a petite little girl at 33 weeks. Your hands like those of a garden fairy, skin as soft as silk, lips so small, they could not be carved by hands, hair as black as the night sky, fingers and toes so dainty, you could have been a doll. I remember the weight of all 1.2 + kgs of you, the way you fit in my arms, the fear I may hurt you. I remember the heartbreak of knowing you would never get up. I remember the silence and the agony of my own cries. I remember the tears that fell and fell until it felt like they were all dried up.
I remember the way it felt to let go of you, to watch you in your dad’s arms, to hear him sing a song you would never hear. I remember him kissing you, here, there, wherever he could, I remember them taking you away. I remember the ache in my heart and the anguish in my soul.
I remember the hatred for the god I used to believe in. I remember the truth of death, I remember the smell of the hospital ward, so sterile, yet unclean. I remember the nights I wished I would fall asleep and never wake.
I remember the sadness in your brothers eyes, how he turned away and pretended he was okay, that I wasn’t in hospital sick and sad that his sister " went to the sky". But he knew and he remembers . he remembers the ice-cream I bought him when he came to see me. I remember the way your dad described him crying when he heard you were not coming home.
I remember a brief funeral after seeing you in a morgue, my child, my baby, so cold, so very cold. A gem, a flower, a star, a dream amidst the filth of that horrid place. I remember songs were sung but the words I don’t. I remember words were said, but I didn’t comprehend them. I remember a furnace, a last goodbye, riding home with a box of ashes in my lap instead of a baby.
I wish I had more …memories of the exact shade of brown of your eyes, the first moment you opened them, your first smile, frown, laugh, the first time you held my finger and tried to get up, the first time you crawled, tried to stand up, took those first steps, walked, broke a vase, scratched or bit your brother, hugged your dad, said a word…those are memories I wish I had.

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