River's Sixth Birthday.

August 17, 2017
Day 321

     Today was River's sixth birthday in heaven. I imagine that it was glorious. I like to think she was celebrated all day. I like to think that the food was just lovely. And delicious. The cake was magnificent. I imagine it was white cake with white frosting and sprinkles. And I imagine her name was written on the very tip top of the cake with light pink frosting. She has the most beautiful name. Sometimes when I'm in the shower, I write her name on the wall with my finger. I try to write it very neatly in my most careful and beautiful cursive writing.

     I opened her case today. I looked at her pictures. I cuddled her blanket. I smelled the dried rose from her service. I held the tiny hat she wore when she was in my arms. I read what Patty wrote for her memorial service. And I cried. And I wished that I could hold my baby. I talked to Chelsea. She told me the story. The story of when I said goodbye to River, and Chelsea came to pick her up. I cry when she tells me that story.

     I saw butterflies today. I saw a very tiny one while the kids and I were picking wildflowers for her party. I made a cake. Patty and her kids came over. My dad came over too. Somehow I knew he would be walking up to my house carrying flowers for his girl, River. He cut some branches off his crepe myrtle, and he wrapped the bottom of the branches very carefully with a wet towel. And for some reason, the fact that he wrapped that wet towel over the branches meant just as much as him bringing the flowers in the first place.

     I wish I could hold her. And smell her. And watch her grow. And cuddle with her in bed. My arms ache for her. They hurt because they cannot hold her. I wish I could see her face. And touch her hair. And know what color her eyes are. I wish I could have nursed her at my breast, and bathed her, and dressed her in pretty clothes.

     I miss her. I am thankful she is my daughter.