Hi Sweet Girl,

Technically, it’s not New Year’s Eve … but it’s Little Christmas night, so in our family, this Night of Light is the transition to a new year.     Today has been filled with packing up Christmas – attempting to recall how the puzzle pieces of decor fit back in the boxes and figuring out how to add in the new stuff.  The struggle is real, and I miss you bustling around helping.

And so, I reminisce as I pack.  Angel ornaments marking the years, Nativity scenes of all sizes, colorful glass trees lighting up the room, and Aunt B’s amazing art whisk me into Memory Lane like a Dickens novel.  I hear laughter, I see your face, and I let the joy chase away the angst. 

This year has been so very special with opportunities to embrace your courage.  Miss Melissa invited me to share your love of camp during counselor orientation - such a blessing to be at camp with your friends .  At school, we celebrated the 15th annual Yellow Day celebration and many of your friends joined together with Krisanna's Garden to sponsor the day. The Parent Association sponsored yellow shirts again as a St. Jude’s fundraiser. Thanks to Miss Meridy, the entire school formed a 15 on the football field!  The roller coaster ride still surprises.

5185 days.  It seems so long ago, yet in some ways it seems like just a few weeks have passed.  I still talk you to all.the.time.  And I love that you show up in yellow flowers along the road, yellow chairs in the courtyard by the church on Christmas Eve, dropped yellow Skittles or stray pencils or fallen yellow leaves gracing the sidewalk.  When I most need a hug, you appear - and my heart bursts happy.  One of your friends will reach out or mention you out of the blue and all of my questions and doubts dissolve into the light and energy of your spirit.

So … yes, I started this on Jan 6.  Clearly, in true Dickens fashion, the “season of light” on Memory Lane distracted me.  Now, we are in the waning hours of “King Martin Day.”  Did I go to the bank today?   I still hear you passionately tell me the story I’ve recounted so many times.  I still want to hear you tell me – again - and again.  It has become the annual posting day.  Aunts and uncles greet me with "Did you go to the bank today?"  On that day so many years ago that you climbed into the back seat, perplexed, horrified, indignant about the injustices Miss Karin shared with your class, it didn't cross my mind that it would become a such a defining moment in our family.   

Sometimes, most unexpectedly, I want to tell you something that happens.  Recently, in a week that I talked to you frequently, I came across this poem, “Belief,” by Ann Thorp.  It is as if she were inside my head when she wrote it – and it reminded me of Fievel’s song in American Tail that you so loved to sing together.  So I sang it.  Yep - I still know the words   

Belief

I have to believe

That you still exist

Somewhere,

That you still watch me

Sometimes

That you still love me

Somehow.

I have to believe

That life has meaning

Somehow

That I am useful here

Sometimes,

That I make small differences

Somewhere.

I have to believe

That I need to stay here

For some time,

That all this teaches me

Something,

So that I can meet you again

Somewhere.
                       ~Ann Thorp

5185 days ago, you asked your dad to “lift me up to those angels.” 5185 days later, your spirit of yellow definitely exists – watching, loving, touching so many lives and making each thousand-years-long day a bright sunshiny yellow one … until I can meet you again - somewhere - out there.

Te amo, sweet girl ~

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