Love, Loss and Living and Grieving on the first Angel Day

Love, Loss and Living and Grieving on the first Angel Day

First Angel Day
Sarah’s “Angel Tree with Snowflakes.”

One year ago, today, the unthinkable happened. My precious granddaughter, Sarah, passed away after a brave battle with myocarditis. Not only did her death send a ripple of shock and grief through our family, that ripple reached beyond what anyone could imagine. She touched the hearts and lives of so many people in our community, and the world at large.

Prayers from family, friends and strangers from around the globe enveloped her and our entire family.

I have been on the verge of tears all day, but they are stuck. Maybe the anger of such an unjust situation. Maybe the fear of never being able to stop crying. Maybe because it is a beautiful and bright sunny day, and last year at this time it was cloudy and snowy.

I don’t know. Grief sucks.

I know that she is forever with me, because a day doesn’t go by when I don’t see her. Clouds, leaves, water drops – you name it – form hearts.

Sarah loved clouds, and sends her love through them.

This morning was no different.

It was a pretty day in January when she was born, with snow falling off and on. It snowed the day she died.

It snowed on Mother’s Day, which clearly was a sign that she was around. In all my life, I never remember snow on Mother’s Day.

I tried to think of something to do, this Angel Day. And other than a few errands, and writing, I can’t think of anything else. I can’t concentrate on bills or chores. I need to go to the grocery store, but I don’t have the mental energy. Holiday decorations are up, and I just can’t fake the holiday cheer required to make it through the aisles.

My self-care includes being outside, and while it is pretty cold, I’ve paced the sidewalk several times today, absorbing the sunshine and fresh air that always help to center me. Seeking to see what message Sarah has sent.

She never disappoints.

Sipping my cappuccino as I paced with a smoke (don’t judge me!), I looked over the fence into my yard. A memory came over me, as it was the spot I remember sitting with Sarah when she was a baby. It was a beautiful spring evening, and she was having the time of her life, as a happy, happy baby. She spun around and around and around in her exer-saucer as our dog barked up and down the fence, keeping her safe. I remember just sitting a looking at her in awe, wishing I had half of her energy.

While reminiscing and pacing, I looked at the area where we shared many great times as she grew. She and her sister caught fireflies there, held our new pup, Remi, there. Kicked a soccer ball there. Blew bubbles there.

Angel Day
A heart in the snow

And this morning, in that same spot where we shared so many memories, under my favorite maple, Sarah appeared. The snow – which she loved – has started to melt. And in the glistening of the sun, there was the shape of a heart. And a few feet away, an angel.

Angel Day
Snow Angel by Sarah.

On this Angel Day, as I mourn the loss of a soul taken way too early; on this day that will always be a day of “whys;” on this day of something that will never, ever make sense to me, I will look for my angel. And I will cry. And I will ache. And I will long for her. And I know that while I can’t see her, or hug her, I can feel that she is by me. Every day.

I love you, Boo.

Love, Mema xo

Love and Loss

12 Replies to “Love, Loss and Living and Grieving on the first Angel Day”

  1. Lynne – what a beautiful tribute to Sarah. You have a tremendous gift for recognizing the signs that Sarah is sending your way, even though you are still going thru the grieving process. The snow and cloud formations are beautiful. Keeping you and your entire family in our prayers.

  2. Lynne:

    I think of you and your family often. I know how it hurts when we loss the people close to us and too soon. I wish for your family a good Christmas and let us all look forward to the New Year and hope it is a better year than this.

  3. I didn’t interact with Sarah that many times but I think of her when I’m in the garden. One summer day I was dropping off an abundance of garden produce. I’d intended to just leave it on the porch and go, but the girls were outside playing. They came over to see what was in the bag and Sarah asked why I’d want to give away so many zucchini. I explained about having too many growing and was thinking about sneaking out at night and leaving them on people’s porches. Sarah laughed delightedly and immediately dubbed it “The Great Zucchini Caper”. Her keen wit and sense of humor were apparent as she began giving me suggestions as to how this could be accomplished. She even offered to come with me! So, whenever I see an abundance of zucchini growing in the garden, I think of your sweet Sarah.

  4. Lynne, grief is emotionally draining and that makes it feel impossible to go on doing normal things again. No matter what they say, time doesn’t heal all wounds — it just takes the edge off the pain a little –(some wounds take much longer). That’s all we can hope for. The “whys” will never be answered though you will still ask. The signs of Sarah will get you through the pain over the years, and I know she will always be with you, sending you little reminders. She was too big a part of your life not to be. I continue to pray for you and your family.

  5. Lynne,
    Roberta Brown shared this link with me so I could read your lovely tribute to your lovely granddaughter. I was impressed with your reading on Saturday for the DWW event and I’m equally impressed with this post. Take care and take heart. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

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