And the littlest stone, it was for you

When you were born, you cried while the world rejoiced. Live your life in such a way that when you die, the world cries while you rejoice. – Robin Sharma

Dear baby,

This weekend while in Oregon, we visited the last place we needed to go to share our news. The last time we were here at this very place was over two years ago, just days before your Daddy asked me to marry him. We stood together in the rain in that beautiful cemetery and he told me about her, about how much she would have liked me and how he wished I could have met her.

This time the sun was shining brightly and a crisp breeze welcomed us to this carefully tended plot of land. As we sat down hand-in-hand in the fresh grass we were thankful for our visit while at the same time flooded with overwhelming feelings of injustice. Your Daddy was only a teenager when he had to say goodbye, and now he comes to her as a man, a husband and soon to be a father - to remember, to celebrate and to share her memory with us. He longed to come home to his childhood house, now occupied by strangers. I know he ached for the smells, the stories, and the life that he knew here in this town. Her absence is always felt, but magnified infinitely just months before a new life is welcomed and her son will become a physician. Dreams are being fulfilled, and we couldn’t help but to outwardly, almost angrily, doubt fate. Because this, the magic of this year, is what living is for. We questioned how memories fade, and why they cannot remain just as vibrant in our minds as the day we made them. Your Daddy says her smile would light up a room and he could sit and talk with her for hours and hours. We wondered what parts of her will live on in you. I hope that while we wept, that she rejoiced.

Although I never met her, I talk to her in my prayers. I tell her all about how proud she would be of your Daddy and everything he’s accomplished. I tell her about how I love tuna sandwiches and women’s health - just like she did. And now, I tell her all about you. I wonder if your Daddy was a wriggly baby who liked to kick his mamma in the ribs. I wonder how long she breastfed him and about the exact moment her heart lit up with his first smile. I tell her about all of the ways that you will know her, and we will make sure of it. But mostly, I thank her. I thank her for raising your Daddy to be the amazing man he is today, for teaching him to love with his whole heart. I thank her for her brisket recipe and planning instincts that inevitably came from nowhere else. Most of all I thank her because her passing helped bring your Daddy to me. Our lives take so many turns for so many reasons, and because one million tiny little moments lined up at exactly the right time – we are together, ever so in love and expecting the greatest joy that life has to offer. In a way she had a small part in giving that to us.

In keeping with Jewish tradition we placed small stones at the graveside, stones that we brought from our yard – the home we have proudly made together. It is a sign to others that we were here, and that we remember. We looked around at the other stones, of those who cherish the names surrounding her. We thought about how they, the passersby and those who mourn, will see these three simple rocks and know that we love her. One Rabbi theorizes that when we bring these tangible stones and roll them around in our fingers, we can still feel our loved one; we can still feel the impact that has been made on this life. Her life, love, values, and morals still make an impression on your Daddy. When he puts the stones down, it is a reminder that although he can no longer take her with him physically – he can take her with him in his heart and mind and the actions he does because she taught him to do them.

As we said our goodbyes, we realized that being a parent is truly the most important and wondrous role you will ever play in life, and in death.

She is missed and before you have even entered this world, you are loved.

And we rejoice.

Love,
Mamma