I am finding the approaching holidays difficult. My life and family look so different than they did last year. I miss Carmen. Bad. I see other little girls around the age Carmen would be today and I find myself wondering what she’d say to me…how I’d do anything to hear her laugh again and know what it would sound like to hear her call me ‘mommy’. But I think that I’m missing those unattainable imaginary moments as a form of escape. This time last year Carmen’s health really started to deteriorate, and those memories are very painful. I cry going up the stairs to my room on the way to bed because my arms feel empty without her. I close my eyes and for a second believe if I open them I’ll see her leaning on her pillow on the couch next to me. I hope when I turn the corner in my room I’ll see her lying sideways on my bed with her little legs sticking straight out and crossed at the feet, facing all the windows because she loved the sunlight.

I know all about perspective. I know that the holidays and families don’t really look the way they’re portrayed on tv. I know that I’m not the only person hurting from loss. I know that this is not ‘the most wonderful time of the year’. I know I’m not the only mom to go through the holidays without her child. I know I am strong and capable and that I face things straight on. I know I don’t like to appear vulnerable. And I know I like honesty…and lately I’m tired and sad and hurting immensely. I’m crying more easily than ever. These holidays are not going to be easy for me, especially on the days when we’ll be juggling our new family arrangement and I won’t have any of my children with me. I feel as though I’m digging my heels in the closer we get to Christmas and to January 21^st, the one year anniversary of Carmen dying. Though I know there are friends out there who are going through the same kind of grief, this pain is lonely.

I will get through. I will cry, probably more than I ever have even though it doesn’t seem possible! I will watch videos of Carmen and trace the outline of her smiling cheek with my finger. I will lean in and rub noses with her picture on my fridge. I will submerse myself in the devastation of never seeing Carmen laugh or smile again after the afternoon of December 16^th. I will remember strange and horrible things and marvel at what the human body can go through. I will mourn my Carmen. And I will hug and kiss Ella and Mick a little too much and a little too long. And I will cry buckets over not being able to do the same to her.

Please feel free to leave us a message! Our journey with Carmen taught us the true importance of friendship and support, and we'd love to hear anything you have to say.

thanks, Catherine, Bill, Ella and Mick