The Letter

(This is the letter that Mr. J and I wrote to Jocelyn that is buried with her)


Dear Jocelyn,

Hi. It's mom and dad. We don't know how to write this letter. We are sorry that you were so sick. We are sorry that we couldn't fix it. We wanted to so badly. We would have done anything, given everything to fix it, to make you all better. To save you.
This world is a crazy place where things are unfair and unjust and sometimes, unimaginable. But you don't have to live in this place. You don't have to ever know the hurt and pain in this world. We would gladly bear those burdens daily to keep you protected from them. And we probably will.
But you, sweet girl, have never been and will never be a burden to us. You are such a blessing, a gift. We are so lucky to be your parents and we will always cherish the short time that we had together in this world.
We hope that you play freely and joyfully wherever you are, until we come to meet you.
Know that not a moment will pass that you are not loved and missed and remembered.
Your big brother is crazy. He would have given you hell. So you may want to keep an eye on him. On all of us, even.
You are so loved, Jocelyn. You have been since the moment we learned of your existence and you will be forever.
We also promise to work hard to allow your short life to be the blessing that it is. To not become bitter or resentful, but to embrace gratitude for you always.
We'd like to write forever, to fill countless notebooks, to avoid saying goodbye. I'm sure that we will write many more letters in the days, weeks, months, and years to come. But this letter has to stop somewhere.
We won't say goodbye though, not ever.
We will continue to know you, feel you, and love you forever. With more love than words could ever express.

Mommy and Daddy

Dear Jocelyn

June somethingtowardstheend, 2012


Dear Jocelyn,

So much has happened lately. It's too much to keep up with even. I feel like so much of your story is missing.
So I'm going to just recap the last couple of weeks for you.

We did a lot in preparation for your burial. We chose a stone to mark your "grave". I fucking hate that word. I know you aren't there. I considerate really more of a memorial.
We went the day before your service to finalize the plans. I took the box that contained your ashes. I held it tightly against my chest as we rode from the funeral home to the cemetery. When we arrived, I laid the box, your box, gently in the burial vault. I tucked a letter from your Aunt Liz on one side and a letter from me and Daddy on the other. I put a piece of Katie's blanket in there. (A gift from your Aunt Susan from the blanket set that Katie was buried with.)
A picture from your Aunt Mal of her and Jude (she wrote you a sweet message on the back) and  a pair of tiny camo socks. I included Jude's blue crinkle elephant, his favorite toy from when he was a baby. It would have surely been among your first round of inherited toys. Now it sleeps with you. A small silver cross from your Maw Maw and Paw Paw.
And then I laid a piece of Daddy's baby blanket (affectionately known in our house as "Blue Blankie") gently over the top of the box.
Then I took the glue and traced along the seal of the vault. And I closed it tightly. Securely.
I took care of you. I couldn't feed you. Or rock you. Or bathe you. But I could do this. And so I did.
I cried, but calmly so. It felt oddly right. A mother, simply caring for her new daughter.

June 16, 2012

We buried your box and vault that we filled with words and items of love. We had a small and beautiful service for you. Your Great Aunt Linda led the service. She cried fearlessly. And she smiled sincerely. And it was perfect.
You are so loved. I know I've said it a million times already, but I just want you to know.
We love you. Always have. Always will.

June 24, 2012

We went to the beach this weekend. I thought of you every second. I was afraid to leave town at first, because I didn't want to miss a day of visiting the cemetery. (I sent someone very special in my place.)
I was scared that being so far from home. Afraid that I wouldn't feel you there. I'm so afraid to not feel you.
I was told that you'd be present with me. That I just had to keep my eyes open and look. That I would see you, feel you.
And I did. And you were there. You were in the waves, in the sunrise, even in the board game laughter. You were with me. You are with me. I'm sorry I forget that sometimes.

Dear Jocelyn

June 13, 2012

Dear Jocelyn,

We scheduled your burial today. It is so surreal.  Sometimes, I can still feel you inside of me. I hope that's where you'll stay. I don't have a lot to say today. And yet I could write for hours. But I am so tired.
I miss you. I love you.
As big as the sky.

Momma






June 14th, 2012 - 7:30am

Dear Jocelyn,

One week. It's been once week since your birth. Almost to the minute, as I lay in bed and watch the clock. I replay the events of your birth in my mind. Thinking about the last moment that you spent inside of me. Knowing that you were already gone. Wishing I could hold you inside forever. Knowing that to push was to say goodbye, at least in the physical sense.
I miss you so much. Sometimes it hurts just to breathe. But I close my eyes and I picture you. This beautiful little girl playing freely in fields of flowers. And I remember, that you are free. That you knew only love in this world. That you knew no pain, or hurt, or sorrow.
I would gladly carry it all for a million years to protect you from it. I guess I kind of already am.
One week. I hope you enjoy your field of flowers.
I love you more than words.

Momma




June 19th, 2012

Dear Jocelyn,

Hey love. On my way to bed. Just wanted to say we love you. And miss you. I think about you constantly  I feel you around me sometimes. I hope as the dust settles, I can feel you more. You may know this already, but you have made such an impact on the lives of those who love you.
I wish I could hold you. Touch you. Kiss you. When I close my eyes, I can see you. You are beautiful and happy and free.
I hope you can still feel my love.

Momma

Dear Jocelyn

June 11, 2012

Dear Jocelyn,

Hey sweet girl. I miss you so much. Sometimes, when I pass a mirror, I see my belly and I think about how I should still be pregnant with you. How you should still be tucked away safely, growing and preparing for you grand October entrance.
I cry a lot. I don't know if you can see that, but I'm sorry if you have to see me cry. Please know it's not your fault that I'm sad. I just miss you. I know that you are better now. I know that you were sick and I know you left this world in peace. But it will take a long tome to make my heard understand what my mind already (sort of, sometimes) knows.
Tonight, we were sitting in the living room and I had this moment of peace. This moment where I felt you near me. It was the most calm and confident and peaceful feeling I've had since we found out how sick you were. I don't really know how this whole afterlife thing works, but if you had anything to do with that precious moment, please feel free to do that again at any time.
I love you. More than words can say. Daddy loves you too.

Talk to you soon,

Momma

Letters

One of the things that has always seemed to help me, is writing letters to Jocelyn. 

I've written many since she was born. And I want to keep writing them. 

So over the coming weeks I am going to post the letters that I've previously written to her. 

Just a heads up, so if you see letters with dates from June you won't think I've totally lost my marbles.

P.S. I probably have totally lost my marbles. 

P.P. S. Marbles are overrated.