The First Birthday

2004-07-23
11:37 p.m.

Tomorrow, the 24th, is the three-month anniversary of Oldest Brother and F.'s accident. It is also F.'s 41st birthday.

F. shared a birthday with her dad. She only missed spending her birthday with him on two occasions: The very first one, as he was in the military and didn't meet her till she was seven months old (A fact I didn't know until her funeral) and the one when she and Oldest Brother moved to KC.

I have no idea how F.'s parents, my brother, and her best friend are going to get through tomorrow. My heart just breaks for all four of them.

F.'s parents came to see my brother in his room in ICU just four days after her funeral. Oldest Brother was on morphine, and really couldn't keep his sanity all in one place at one time. That morning he alternated between looking for his truck out in the hallway and telling us about the things he could see that we couldn't, a fact he blamed on his glasses. He also asked me quite a bit about the people who had ridden the bus in with me from a neighboring town. Not sure where that one came from, but I played along.

F.'s parents were relieved to see my brother conscious, but were clearly saddened by his lack of focus, though they understood it was an effect of the medication. I sat and talked with them that morning for quite a while, and I know they couldn't begin to tell you what we spoke about. Their focus was all on the wide-open gaping hole that had just been left in their lives.

The sight of them in his room that morning is one of my inner snapshots I will never forget. I don't know that I've ever been able to so visibly see emotional pain. They were both just saturated in it, looking pale and gray. I think it took all the energy either of them could muster to just move. It is amazing to me they were able to make the trip in to see him.

I remember looking at the sunlight in the window behind them and thinking I'm sure they have no notice of anything right now but the fact that she's gone. I hope to never, ever have to experience the pain they've now had to endure of losing a child.

When my mom and I talked later that afternoon, I told her I'd tried to summon up enough emotional fortitude to tell them how much I loved F., too. (A fact I'm ashamed to admit I didn't fully realize till the events we've had happen this year.) But I couldn't do it. For me to try to do that then would have been disastrous. We were all hinged together with paperclips and toothpicks ourselves.

Mom suggested I write a letter to her parents and tell them that way. She reminded me of a letter my soon-to-be-Husband wrote to my parents shortly before we left to be married. We all knew Dad's days were short then, and soon-to-be-Husband told me he wanted my parents to know how much he loved me and wanted to marry me.

At the time he wrote that letter, I was both amazed he would do it and uncomfortable as well. It just stirred up more emotion than I wanted to deal with right then.

Mom told me she and my dad had both read that letter many times, and that she still had it. Now I'm glad Hubby ignored my discomfort and did it anyway.

Over the next few days I will be writing a letter to F.'s parents, F.'s best friend, and my brother. I don't want to, because it will be painful as hell, but if I put myself in their shoes, I know how much I would want to hear from someone else who loved her too.

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