It has been one month since Quinn’s arrival. I still feel like time has stopped and
the world is buzzing around me as I stay frozen. People come and go from their houses, R goes out for a play
date, and here I am…my baby still gone.
It hurts just the same. It
was my father’s birthday the day Quinn arrived, and now, one month later it is
my mother’s. In the shadows of death
there is life and celebration for others.
Quinn’s memorial is this Saturday and I spent a good portion
of the day preparing. I came
across the jar that holds her hair and I desperately wanted to open it, touch
it, and smell it. However, I
wouldn’t let myself. What if
opening it made her smell escape or less pungent? I couldn’t bear the thought of her smell escaping that jar
so I kept it closed. I wanted to
leave her smell bottled up and untouched so I would always have it.
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