It is June 26, 2018. 3:00Pm.
I am on my way to the park. We have been back and forth all day, setting up for the event I planned for the last 4 weeks. It is beautiful and special. I will see many people who have been supporting me through this last month. I carefully braided my hair, it's how I planned to wear it today, if today was what it was meant to be. I am driving myself for the first time in 5 weeks. I am in the car I last drove to the hospital. I should be driving to the hospital. But I am going to the park. I am going to a memorial for my daughter.
She should be in my arms right now.
The blood drive is full. Of people, of friends, of family, of love. People from around the world join us in celebrating Anna. All day people continue to flow in and out of the park, with tears, and so many hugs. I am never alone. People sit with me and visit after each donation. Women and husbands from book club. Families from baseball. Neighbors who used to be strangers a short time ago. So many people. 47 donors came to the park today. We are so loved.
She should be in my arms right now.
The kids are rolling down the grass hill. Laughing. Sawyer told me he know's its Anna's Birthday, but she died. Their laughter is echoing in my mind as I write this. Max was going to finally be a big brother, just like Sawyer. He was so excited.
She should be in my arms right now.
The sun is setting on June 26. We are still at the park, as the moon replaces my sunshine. My sunshine baby is on my mind, and the world turns dark with me. It's mirroring my pain. And somewhere else in the city, one of my good friends is snuggling with her baby that was born yesterday. We joked that they were already engaged.
She should be in my arms right now.
We get home after being at the blood drive for 8 hours. We sit in the kitchen, too mentally exhausted to even check out phones for the amazing posts that have been shared with #GiveLoveForAnna. It feels like a normal night together as we discuss our day.
She should be in my arms right now.
Brandon pulls me into his arms and says, "I know, it was a tough day." Our tears are mixing. We are holding each other are tight as possible. Then he tries to make a joke, because he doesn't want me to hurt this bad. And there is nothing he can do to change it. We laugh together, and then we cry some more. It's the subtle tightrope dance that our life is lately.
She should be in my arms right now.
I have a long hot shower to wash the day off of me. I clean my Csection scar that is almost healed. I wash the tattoo I now have permanently with me. All of the products in my shower are pink. I always notice this color in the world now. I scrub the waterproof mascara off. They hid the tears stains from today. I stand under the water drowning in emotion.
She should be in my arms right now.
I crawl into bed. My only place of solace. I pull out my computer to write. To read all the love in the world today because of our girl. I turn on the tv out of habit, to continue distracting my mind from the date. I have watched so much tv these last 5 weeks. I need netflix to let my brain survive another day of this mental prison.
She should be in my arms right now.
Today was about celebrating a life, but also trying to keep my mind from realizing that that same life is gone. Today was beautiful in so many ways. But it was one of the worst days of my life.
She should be in my arms right now.
And she will never be in my arms again.
with love, lissa