all of her tomorrows

Again, I can't get that family out of my head in memphis that lost her 20 month old girl Evie Grace. I keep thinking, how? How can this be? Another broken heart? I hold Aynslee so tight today....and cry for this family. I think back when we chose Ava’s casket, I vaguely remember some of my thought process. They’re so tiny. But she’s so tiny. Is there just white? It should be pink, really. You only have 2 choices. Why? This doesn't happen...it's not supposed to happen...children don't die. What would she like? Do they have a Dora one...or Kai Lan? 

But more than anything..Are we really here, doing this?

I could not even begin to process what we were doing. Not us. Not for our daughter. Please don’t let this be our life. Our child. It was so unbelievable. (It is still unbelievable.) I didn’t realize on that day that her little tiny white casket with pink satin and silver handles and a precious moments angel needed to hold so much more than our precious daughter.

It had to hold her first day at school. Her clothes. Her bows. Her books. The friends she’d meet. The lunches we’d make for her. Her graduation dress.

It had to hold all her toys along with all her future things of treasure .. her jewellery, her perfume, her car ( or pink truck as daddy told her he was going to build for her) and her house.

It had to hold her friends. The sleepovers and the shopping trips. The coffees and the wines and the trips to the movies. The giggly phone calls. The games, the gossip, the disagreements.

It had to hold so many parties. Her birthdays, her engagement and her housewarming parties. Her friends parties. The outfits she’d carefully choose, the shoes to match. The gifts. The excitement.

It had to hold a husband. A whole wedding. A beautiful wedding dress…and the dresses of her bridesmaids. A honeymoon and a happily ever after.

It had to hold her children. Her clothes for a bigger belly, her parenting books, her babies nurseries. Her fears for their safety, her hope that she was doing a good enough job.

It had to hold every single one of her dreams. Her hopes for a future, her worries about the unknown, her anticipation of all the tomorrows. Her opinions, her beliefs, her faith. Her regrets and her achievements. Her amazing, wonderful, full, happy life that never became.

These are my quiet thoughts today. Pondering what is really contained within each of our small children. So much. So very, very much.

It is a gift that now, when I hold my Aynslee dearly and breathe her in, I’m not just grateful for her, I’m so thankful for all of her tomorrows.