The year has ended
The last year that Tilda lived
The year we lost her
The year she died
The year we knew her
The year we loved her
Adored her
And cherished her
The year her wooden boat sailed to the sky
The year kisses turned into bubbles
Her beauty turned into stars
The year our daughter fell asleep
And never woke up
No chance for a proper goodbye
The year we are about to start reliving
As the anniversary of her death
Her sudden infant death
Starts to draw near
And now we are stuck at the turn of the year
Pinned between new year and the second of the month
11 months without our baby girl
11 months passed
11 months dead
And now we are in a year that she has never seen
With air she never breathed
Places she has never been
And people say
Oh it is just a day
It is more than a day for me
The turn of the year
The turn of her year
The end of the year that she lived
And so we went to the beach
To the sea
We sailed wooden boats
In the sandy stream
We blew bubble kisses to a stormy sky
We went to her river
Waded the swell
Blew bubble kisses to the stars as well
We lit her candle in 2013
Her star of wonder and light
A light that burned into 2014
And as the year ended it was just her and me
Burning, flickering
Yearning, needing
Missing
How many times I whispered to that candle
I miss you Matilda Mae
I miss you Baby Tilda
And then when the light went out
We searched for hope in Eden
Escaped from the world
All happy and full of hope for a healthy and prosperous new year
I left my heart in 2013
My heart died with my daughter
I feel lonely and lost
And helplessly low
At the turn of the year.
My heart is aching for you and your family. I can understand a little how New Year is not always a celebration for everyone. Sending you lots of love for the days ahead. Xxx
Oh Jennie, I’m so so sorry. I thought of you all at New Year, all the cheering and fireworks. I hope Matilda Mae could see the fireworks too. I wish you a peaceful time between now and the anniversary. Xxx
We lit a candle this new year to remember those loved and now lost. Thinking of you and your family x
No words, only tears.
Just know I will never forget your beautiful Matilda Mar
I don’t know what to say, Jennie. No-one can truly know the pain you feel each day. I just hope it eases for you in time and 2014 is as easy on you as it possibly can be. Tilda will always be with you. Her name will always be spoken by those who care. You and Tilda are constantly in my thoughts. For the first time this year I saw the new year in with both my children in my arms and I thought of Tilda. The stars were so bright in the sky last night and I whispered her name to them for you. Sending you so much love xx
I have been thinking of you the last couple of days. I have no words but want you to know that I have been thinking of you all, as I always do. x
So pleased you were here, together as a family with the peace of the river and the starry night sky. I am helpless to ease your pain, but wish with all my heart you can find that hope for 2014.
I’m so hurting for you. I so wish there was ANYthing I could do but be sorry, and just be, and hope for a day when the pain is slightly, ever so slightly less, and send love and strength and hope it reaches you, and remember Matilda Mae too… I wish 🙁 x x x x x
I hope, like Heather said, that 2014 can be gentle on you. I’m glad you were by the sea and by Tilda’s river these past few days. I think you and Tilda will be in my thoughts all the more than usual in the run up to her anniversary. I’m so sorry Jennie. I hope more than anything that 2014 can bring you and your family some brighter days xx
May the year bring you love and hope, rainbows to brighten the rainy days and lots of tears of laughter to balance tears of sorrow.
Oh Jennie, I cannot imagine how painful a new year must be for you. I know it doesn’t help you, but I wanted you to know that I’ve thought about you a lot over the festive period and how difficult it must have been to relive all those memories from last year. I think reflection is such a natural part of Christmas and New Year and I understand how that must be bringing you inconceivable pain. You’ll always in my thoughts. x
I can’t imagine how difficult these last few weeks have been for you. I am so sorry you have had to go through losing your beautiful daughter. I hope your feel happier closer to your daughter at Coombe Mill. You sound a little happier when you are there closer to where you set her spirit free. I think about your every day Jennie and pray that you will find a little happier and a little more hopeful in 2014. You are such a strong woman – never forget that xx
I cannot not read and run, I have no words to add to those already left, but know that I am, as always, thinking of you xx
I have no clever words. All I can say is that you are keeping on keeping on. Sometimes that is all you can do. Sometimes that is good enough. Sometimes that is amazing and inspirational to others.
I think of you often and hope somehow this pain will ease.
As I said, I have no clever words.
I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength,
and I stand and watch until at last she hangs
like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says,
” There she goes! ”
Gone where?
Gone from my sight . . . that is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and just as able to bear her load of living freight
to the place of destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment
when someone at my side says,
” There she goes! ”
there are other eyes watching her coming . . .
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout . . .
” Here she comes! ”
by Henry Van Dyke
I am sorry for your lost, I know words are not enough, but you mentioning of the seashore and wooden boats reminded me of the poem that was read at the passing who my God daughter from a heart defect at 10 weeks, in case you had not heard it I wanted to posted it for you. x
===========================
I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength,
and I stand and watch until at last she hangs
like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says,
” There she goes! ”
Gone where?
Gone from my sight . . . that is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and just as able to bear her load of living freight
to the place of destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment
when someone at my side says,
” There she goes! ”
there are other eyes watching her coming . . .
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout . . .
” Here she comes! ”
by Henry Van Dyke
I am sorry for your loss, I know words are not enough, but your mention of the seashore and wooden boats reminded me of the poem that was read at the passing of my God-daughter from a heart defect at 10 weeks, in case you have not heard it before I wanted to post it for you. x
===========================
I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength,
and I stand and watch until at last she hangs
like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come down to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side says,
” There she goes! ”
Gone where?
Gone from my sight . . . that is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar
as she was when she left my side
and just as able to bear her load of living freight
to the place of destination.
Her diminished size is in me, not in her.
And just at the moment
when someone at my side says,
” There she goes! ”
there are other eyes watching her coming . . .
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout . . .
” Here she comes! ”
by Henry Van Dyke
There are no words to say. I cannot begin to imagine the pain you are going through. But I couldn’t read and not comment. Hugs to you.
It’s interesting – it’s a milestone no one thinks of, one no one sees. I remember how painful it was to say goodbye to the year that Finley was born in, getting further and further away. Your words sum it up perfectly.
Jennie, I think you have indeed lost a bit of your heart but I hope the bit that you have lost is safe with Tilda who will always be part of you. I think of you often x x x
Dear Jennie,
I have just finished writing a post about my best friend who died a year ago and saw a link to your blog. There are no words – despite my own grief I cannot begin to imagine how you feel – I simply wanted to say how very sorry I am.
Jane A xx