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Always Loving, Always Loved

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When she was born, I looked at her and thought she was the most beautiful baby in the world. In my twenty years I had never looked like anyone or had anyone look like me. Being adopted there are never familiar similarities to anyone in your family. But looking at her little face I saw bits and pieces of myself.

And when she died I lost more then bits and pieces of myself. More then bits and pieces that I never found again. Losing a child is indescribable, words can’t speak to that kind of grief and pain.

An Emmy award should be given to every parent who has ever lost a child and not turned to drugs or alcohol to anesthetize themselves against the pain. Because those of us that survive without drug or alcohol become award-winning actors portraying living.

You learn to smile and laugh. You fake happiness and mentally write suicide notes. You get really good at faking, until the time draws near to the anniversary of their death.

And then you can’t hide it very well and those that know you best,  that were there to share in the dreadful event know what you know. They know how hard each day, each minute is to your spirit.

Most of the year I can speak quite clinically about the daughter that once was then wasn’t. But come the time between the anniversary of her birth and the anniversary of her death come the “dark” times when you mentally write those notes daily, sometimes hourly.

The times you can’t tell if you are tired from lack of sleep or tired from the grief that wraps around your heart and squeezes.

Then when you are just about ready to grab that notepad, the date passes and the squeeze around your heart lessens and you breathe a sigh and know that for a while you can go on. And you store away that notepad for another year.

At that time I remind myself how fortunate I was to have had a daughter so wonderful that the pain of losing her lasts a lifetime.

Love to you and yours,
NanaCarol

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