Remember Me

Four years. Four years ago today, I walked into my daughter's room and knew she was gone. Her little soul had left us before we even knew. Will I wake up every year on May 21 and be taken back to that day in 2009? I'm able now, after all this time, to stop myself from being dragged to a time and place where I don't need to be. I spent so much time and energy in the year or two after her death remembering every moment over and over again, my head and heart trying to make sense of it all. I finally got to a place where I realized I need to live, not experience her death over and over. I can usually stop myself from going back, from seeing the events of that day and the weeks that followed.

And yes, I do feel the guilt. I remind myself she wouldn't want me to be there. She would probably want me to remember her playing with her best friend, when they were babies and when they were older. She'd want me to remember the trips to the park, to the children's museum, or to restaurants (she loved to eat). She'd want me to be here, be present with her younger brother and sister. And I am. I'm here for them, I'm here for me. For this life, given to me, which I have to make the most of because now I feel I'm making up for the one she lost.

And what do I want? At her memorial, I spoke, amazingly enough. I can't believe now that I was able to get up and speak. Speaking up for myself is something I've always been able to do, at least, after a certain point in my life. Before that, it was about the last thing I was able to do. I spoke up for her at the service, and I asked everyone to remember her. I asked that they let me talk about her in the years to come, and that they tell me their memories, that they remember or think about her.

It surprises me who has done that. A friend told me that I would be surprised; that those I would expect to be there wouldn't, and others would come forward. And they did, and they have.

On this day, remembering my girl, I will try to keep those good memories of her in my mind, above the memories of the day I lost her. I welcome messages from those who remember her, or at least are thinking of her and those who miss her.

Remember me, remember my girl.