The mouse

My Dear Hailey Mouse,

When you were a baby you would make these little soft squeaking sounds while you were asleep. I'd hear you sometimes in the middle of the night. I'd walk over to your crib (the one you inherited from sissy), & there you were. A cute little chubby faced angel with thick wavy black hair sleeping peacefully. Breathing deeply. Squeaking like a little mouse...

And so it stuck. Your nickname(s): Mouse, mousie, mouse of the house, mousie kapowski (I think Daddy came up with that one). I remember sometimes wondering if the nickname we gave you, attributed to your cute little mousie personality. Because you stayed our little mouse until the end. Always our very sweet, fragile, feminine, cute, Hailey Mouse. Our girlie girl.

You never minded the name. In fact, you loved it. It made it ok for us to baby you, & you loved to be babied. Even as you got older, it didn't bother or embarrass you, even in public. Do you remember the time we were at a restaurant & our waitress's nickname was also Mouse? She overheard us call you that, & all excitedly told us it was her family nickname too. :) I remember she was tall & thin, maybe in her early twenties, with light brown hair. Wish I could remember the restaurant. But we all smiled & laughed & made a big deal of it. Even though we never cared what other people thought, somehow she validated it. That it was ok, that we weren't dumb or that silly. What a coincidence I thought. She was cute, you were cute. Just like a mouse...

The mouse that would always cuddle next to me on the couch. The mouse that would follow me everywhere I went. My tail. To the grocery to store, to run errands, to go for a walk. The mouse that would watch me get ready for work, put my make up on, give me fashion advice. The mouse, who I'd call after a long hard day at work, just to hear her voice. Just to have her lift my spirits. Or who'd call me, worried because I was taking too long to call her. Who I'd yell "Mouse" to, if she was taking too long in the shower or was trying to make laugh when she'd be throwing a tantrum or mad & giving me the silent treatment.

Do you remember that? Rapping, singing & dancing in the shower for over 30 minutes? Or getting mad at me because I didn't buy you the new shoes, dress, or even candy you wanted? You'd get mad at me for the smallest things. You were such a spoiled mouse. I'd say "Hailey, don't be mean to your Mommy. You only have one in the whole world. One day you'll regret being mean to me. One day your Mommy won't be around...."
 
But it's you who left first. You who I  have to live without. How did this happen?

It's this feeling I can't explain to people when they ask, "How are you doing?" How do I tell people that it kills me each time I turn around, and you're not there? That it feels like I'm missing a limb. Missing one of my senses. Or all. Missing a piece of my heart, my soul, my being. It's just gone, like you're gone and I won't ever get it back. That no matter how much I cry, beg, cuss, or scream...my mouse is never coming back...

When you're 11th birthday came, I wondered at what age would you want us to stop calling you mouse. The more I thought about it, the more I thought; probably never. Even at your age, you were still our cute, fragile, girlie girl. Our sweet Hailey. I know that would never change. You would never change. You loved being babied. You loved being our mimosa. Our mouse...who just turned into a real live angel.

I remind myself, that you are still here baby girl. You're here in spirit, in our hearts. I close my eyes to hear you, see & feel you. When I get ready to leave the house, there you are telling me to put some make up on & to at least match my outfit. You're at the stores, on walks, movies, events, Bella's even taking you to the pool tomorrow. You're here, because we need & want you to be...because we can't ever let that part of you go. You're still our sweet Hailey mouse. Our mouse of the house.

We love you forever.

All the way up to you,

Always your Mommy.