Thank you friend, you who shares in Facebook memories with me adding meaningful words. You connect me with the past in a way that is filled with graceful remembrance. It’s through your words that I can hear you remember her with me.
Thank you friend, you who checks in, year after year, on specific dates. Anniversaries don’t just go away because my child is dead. We celebrate her and love her from afar. No presents are given but she is still here with us. In our hearts.
It seems to me that when I write about A’Mya, some people take that as me being sad or depressed. It is not (always) the case. I’m remembering my child. This is honouring her memory because I don’t have the luxury to make memories as we do with the children that are alive.
For many it is inconceivable that there are daily situation that make me remember. Most of those are not even through my own rummaging through photos or memorabilia, which we anyway have very few. They are just daily mundane incidents that are somehow wired in with A’Mya shaped hole in my heart. Many times I can’t even explain why or how – and it is not important. I don’t have to justify my heart’s longing for my child.
She is my child. She is right here with me, even if not visible to the world. This is just the point. Because she is not physically here, some people assume that she does not or no longer exist. We all have thoughts, wishes, dreams and even though they don’t all exist (in reality) they are still here.
Thank you friend, you who acknowledges A’Mya’s existence, even if you have never physically met her. You validate her importance to my heart. You validate my heart.
Thank you friend, you who understands that triggers are neither rational nor logical. Your acceptance of my vulnerable heart makes me trust your ability to share my tears with, those that will remain invisible to the rest.
Thank you friend.
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