Today, 4 years ago was the day you lived.
You were born yesterday 4 years ago – and you passed on, tomorrow 4 years ago.
It’s been 4 years, not a long time and still, quite some time has passed.
Certain things have changed – and some have not.
I miss you – and that won’t change. It doesn’t have to change. I don’t expect it will ever change.
Those we love are those we miss when they are no longer around. This is normal.
Yesterday, as we celebrated you and your sister’s birthday she said: “I want Amya! I want my twin…” It came out of nowhere, what seemed to me out-of-context because at that moment we were not talking about you. She continued asking: “Did Amya want to grow up with me?”
I looked at your father, saying: “What do I say?” I translated what your sister had said, so he would understand in his language and he responded: “Yes, I think she would have if she could.”
We will honour and remember you – and that won’t change. It doesn’t have to change. I don’t expect it will ever change.
Those we love are those we honour and remember when they are no longer around. This is normal.
Your sister has just grasped the concept of impermanence – she cried tears of sadness for 30 minutes after her birthday party was over this past Saturday. Your sister opened a present a bought in memory of you, a book about a girl who lost her name. I said: “I think Amya is glad if you keep the book and enjoy it for her.” She responded: “Yes, Amya can’t use the book where she is now…”
We celebrate your memory – and that won’t change. It doesn’t have to change. I don’t expect it will ever change. Those we love are those whose memory we celebrate when they are no longer around. This is normal. Nowadays, butterflies have become “Greetings from Amya”. How lucky are we to have a garden (on earth) with flowers and plants to attract lots of your greetings.
You are part of our lives – and that won’t change. It doesn’t have to change. I don’t expect it will ever change.
Those we love remain part of our lives, even when they are no longer around. This is normal. This is normal after loss.
We miss you
We honour and remember you
We celebrate your memory
You are part of our lives
And your physical impermanence won’t change that.
It doesn’t have to change.
Thank you Amya – my Hope – for teaching me so much about life and death, grief and grieving, love and loss.
It’s been 4 years
Since I held you
In my arms
The only time, my child
(Author’s Note: The book ‘Grieving Parents: Surviving Loss as a Couple’ has just been released in its German translation (‘Trauernde Eltern: Wie ein Paar den Verlust eines Kindes überlebt’). This book has been writing in honour and memory of both of my daughters.)
This article was first published September 2, 2015 in Still Standing Magazine.
