Reliving & accepting

My little girl,

It's hard to recall all the details of those final days leading up to the day...in which you passed. I don't like to use the word died, because in my heart you haven't. You are still very much a part of our lives, and always will be. It doesn't have anything to do with denial or letting go....but everything to do with the fact that our love will always keep your memory alive. The fact that your spirit is felt every minute of everyday.

And the fact that I believe, like I never have before, that you have really passed on to heaven; maybe not one like they describe in books or movies; but still a place of peace; rich in beauty and bliss. I know this because of all the signs we've received, both from you & the God that is keeping you safe for me, until we meet again.

I knew that the days leading up to the anniversary of your passing would cause a new tsunami of hard-hitting waves that would leave us half drowning again; fighting & gasping for air.

Maybe not all of us. Maybe only me. I can only speak for myself.

The other day, when I opened FB to find last year's memory of you joining the running club- it didn't bring the usual joy I get, like opening up a small wrapped gift. There was no smile & no warmth in my heart. Instead it felt like I was sucker punched in the gut. My first thought was- nooooo! This is when it first began & I had no clue. It was like watching the beginning of a timeline....& in my head I couldn't help but reliving the days & moments of that timeline.

Today, I relived it all over again by sharing our story with the editor of Insulin Nation. About a month ago, they published an article In Memoriam to the Undiagnosed, about all deaths caused by undiagnosed Type One Diabetes, in the past year. Most of them were children. Of course your name wasn't mentioned, & it stung me in a way I didn't expect.

http://insulinnation.com/living/in-memoriam-to-the-undiagnosed/

How would they know? How would anyone know? You didn't pass away here, in the grand country of USA, even though you were born here. You passed away in a small obscure, not-well-known, third world country named Bolivia. You weren't technically "undiagnosed". You were just diagnosed too late...

I wasn't on Facebook posting every single detail of our nightmare. I was too busy living it. There was no time. Everything happened so fast. You were with us & then suddenly, you were gone. Physically gone...leaving us emotionally gone.

It stung me long afterwards not seeing your name mentioned, my sweet girl. It wasn't their fault, I know. So I decided to email the editor to at least tell him about you, about us. I finally received a response last week & he asked if it was ok to publish our story. Of course I agreed & sent him the full story this morning.

This was his response:

And this was mine on FB:

It did my mouse. It took a lot out of me. Whether he'll actually publish it, I don't know. We're still waiting to hear from the other lady from the magazine. Debbie was told our story will be published in April. Tom "Diabetes Dad" who we met in NC, told us not to hold our breath. :(

Either way, it was both relieving & devastating to tell someone our story & relive every moment. But I tried, & that is enough. He was genuinely nice in his other emails, sending us condolences, etc. I just don't know if I could do it again, sweet angel. I was useless all day. I had a headache, couldn't eat & was in bed most of the day.

But I also want to share that when I finally forced myself to get out of the house & go for a walk- it was a beautiful sunny day. There was a cool breeze. I noticed the trees are starting to bud. Out of the five people who walked past me; 3 waved & smiled & 2 said hello. That never happens.

And in a the midst of the patchy green grass beside the sidewalk, I noticed a little patch of tiny light purple flowers. And I thought...my little girl is everywhere.

My sweet girl, I have accepted that we can't turn back time. I have accepted that no one is to blame. Not even God.

I have accepted that the world will continue to turn. That the stars & sun will still shine...

But I also know that they shine a little brighter, because of you. That the world is forever changed & made better because you were in it. And your life will continue to impact others...whether it's in big numbers or just us; the ones that knew you & loved you best. And that's ok.

As long as I have breath left in me & as long as I have the strength, I will make sure of it.

And I will never stop being your mom & I will never stop loving you. Not even for a moment.

Forever & ever,
Your Mommy