The Silent Doorbells

October 19, 2015

pumpkinsFor me, the holiday season starts with Halloween. It begins when the costumes and candy and pumpkins begin to fill the shelves and stores.

Along with it, comes that dull aching and longing for the missing pieces of my life that will never be. My daughters.

No pumpkins carved and lit on the doorstep.
Empty chairs at the holiday tables.
Missing handmade ornaments made by tiny hands.
No letters to Santa.
Gratitudes left unspoken because their little voices will never speak.
No cookies or treats will be stirred or decorated by sticky fingers.

And dozens of doorbells will ring one less time on Halloween because my girls aren’t here to push the bell.

Two costumes will remain on the store shelves.

Two plastic pumpkins or brightly color bags will sit empty without candy collected with excited “trick or treats” giggles.

Two caramel covered apples will stay standing on the tray.

Two half-scared, half-excited screams will be missing from the crowd of kids in the haunted house.

There will always be an empty space where they were meant to be.

I will never know their favorite candy treats.

I will never hear them say as I used to, “Here, Mom, I don’t like this one. You can have it cuz you do,” as they dig through their bags of candy.

I will never know if they would eat themselves sick on sugar or if they would be like me and eat just a few, leaving the rest to lay forgotten in a drawer until next Halloween.

I will never know if they would have been ghosts or princesses or superheros or kittens or witches or zombies or what else their little imaginations might have created.

Though I fill this pumpkin-orange and candy-filled holiday with friends and fun and life, every time the doorbell rings and little ones call out, “Trick or treat,” I always think of the silent doorbells and empty steps that would have been filled by my girls.

Halloween will always have two empty spaces where they were supposed to be.

  • Emily Long

    Emily Long is the mama of two daughters gone too soon, a Life Archaeologist, coffee shop writer, consumer of bagels and hot cocoa, endless reader, lover of travel, and occasional hermit. Emily is committed to supporting families who experience the death of a child and writes frequently on the topic of pregnancy and infant loss. She speaks nationally advocating for the voice of grieving parents and families. Emily provides local and distance counseling services for grief and loss, trauma, anxiety, and other painful life stuff. In her downtime, you can usually find her in her hermit house re-reading Harry Potter (again).

    3 Comments

    • Ryan

      December 14, 2015 at 4:16 pm

      Hi,
      Sad, sad. There are difficult moments in our life. So sad.

    • Gina

      October 31, 2016 at 9:25 am

      Hi,
      I just want to first say that My heart truly aches for you. I too lost my son in 1992 he was 22 months old and I suffered the pain of this 24 years alone in silence . While there were grief books and church I really had no resources and no support. Oddly, though I came from a large family , I still had no support… I was. Eileen and still feel broken today because without the love and support it makes thing stand still. I don’t mean to ramble but I came across you here and I just want to send you a proverbial hug and say thank you… why thank you? Because you have inspired me and have given me hope. I can still move forward and heal and I thank you for being brace enough to start this journey of yours so publicly ..
      Gina

    • Gina

      October 31, 2016 at 9:26 am

      Brave not brace , I am sorry

    Comments are closed.

    Prev Post Next Post