September 17, 2014

September 17, 2014

Sweet Lucy-Girl,

I am writing to you a little over a week after your special day. Oh, Lucy, what a day that was. I will never forget that I heard your heartbeat in that little room early in the morning. The doctor tried to tell us that you were already gone, and looking back on it, parts of me want to believe that you weren’t there. But I know what I know. And I know that we heard the heartbeat and we heard you strong. And the nurse smiled reassuringly to us to let us know that you were still there and still okay. I haven’t forgotten that. And as painful as that day was, I want you to know that I still treasure it. I treasure it because it was the last time I got to be with you.

I think about you, about how old you would be. And maybe what you would look like. I imagine you as my rock solid Lucy, my right hand to help keep Emiko in line. She would have loved to follow you. I would love it if you could still do that for her, in whatever ways you can.

Life here is wonderful and perfect. But it’s just missing you. And I’m missing you. Maybe that’s the only real difference between here and heaven: having everyone you want with you.

Say hi to your grandma for me. Be good. Keep an eye on us. And always know that I love you and that I think of you always.

With love,

Your Poppa