birth day/ noun
The annual anniversary of the day on which a person was born.
It isn't the same anymore. Yes, it's an annual occurrence. But how can you describe the day a baby was born, who never got to see a birth day. A baby who never got to know what life was from the day of their birth? I don't think you can describe that. Yes, the day they were born. But a day that sets the journey for the rest of your life as well. But in a different way.
I will always be grateful for my opportunity to know, and love my Savannah. I know Koady wouldn't disagree with that either. But it is a hard life for those that spend the rest of our lives, without that one. The one who really makes you who you are. The one who never got to be, yours.
A friend recently told me, I deal with the death of Savannah, in some similar ways to a man. How a man deals with mortality. I told her, I love seeing Savannah's pictures on the walls of my house. But at the same time, it still hurts to walk past her pretty face everyday. To see what a beautiful creation she was, and know I will not get to see her physical face again for a long time. Photographs are frozen moments in time. But a time that we will never ever get to get back. We will never have her back again.
As her birthday approaches, I feel so much resurfacing from last years events. And it makes me angry once more. Not angry at saying goodbye. Not angry in the outcome. Angry that my life has continued for almost one year without her. A parents life is supposed to end long before their child's. And the burden of staying? That burden hurts far worse than anything someone could ever imagine. I wake up everyday to continue on in a life that shouldn't be without her in it. My life is lived with a void. I listen to people complain about so many things. Things that I wish more than anything I could take on as my own. Please trade me your life. Please trade me your problems. I will take all of them if it means I can have my baby back. I don't want to helplessly look for reminders of her. I don't want to share her soul with others. This is how I described it a few nights ago... as hot tears uncontrollably soaked my cheeks through desperate sobs of an empty mother's life...
"Everyone tells me about Savannah being with them.
Here's what hurts me with that. I know it's true.
I know that Savannah understands more than I will ever know in my life.
But there are times that I wish people understood that
I DON'T WANT TO SHARE HER.
It never got to be just mommy and Savannah.
In the quiet of the world.
I want to be holding her in MY arms, and if someone
else is thinking of her somewhere else in the world,
she is looking up at ME.
she is looking up at ME.
And her world rises and sets on her mommy.
That in that moment, she isn't with EVERYONE.
In that moment no one else in the world matters
because she is gazing into her mommy's eyes,
and her mommy is gazing right back into hers...
I never got that.
And I want it back.
I want her to be MINE.
And it will never be like that now."
It's my life now. Almost one year later, it's still my life. No matter how badly I don't want to live without her, it will always be my life. On my birthday's... and hers. One year of grief, and it probably will never be easier without them.