"I should not talk so much about myself if there were any body else whom I knew as well."
-Henry David Thoreau

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Emma Week

Last week was Emma week. The 19th would have been her 11th birthday and the 27th (Easter) marked 4 years since she died. I didn't write about it because I couldn't. Or didn't want to. Or couldn't. I don't know. Whatever. It's been 4 years and that is absurd. She's been gone 4 years. 
One thing I still struggle with is when & what to share with strangers. When we went to Eureka Springs we stopped in a store that I've loved for years. The owner sort of knows me, but I'm pretty sure she is just really friendly and has a talent for making a person feel remembered. I hadn't been in there in years, so I can't say if she really remembered me or was just being nice. I was wearing Eleanor and the owner commented on how we didn't have her last time we were in and then eluded to us having other children. I said, "yes, we had two older girls," and intended to leave it at that. But as we looked around the store she continued talking and by the end she asked how old our other girls were now. I'm not sure what happened, really, but instead of explaining that they died, I answered with, "11 and 13." As soon as it came out of my mouth, I regretted it. I told her how old they would have been and once I told that big fat lie I didn't know how to undo it. I pretended like Alex & Emma were still alive and it felt wrong as soon as I did it. We said goodbye and left the store and now I feel like I can never go back. I don't know what I was thinking. I just didn't want to have the dead children conversation. I hate that I lied, even if it was done in an instinct to avoid a painful & awkward conversation. It sucked, but I dealt with it and moved on. 
Then yesterday evening we went to pick Dottie up from the airport. As we were sitting and waiting, Eleanor caught the eye of a nice woman who started playing Peek-a-boo with her. That turned into casual conversation and the "is she your first?" question. She was a complete stranger and just being friendly, so we said, "yes". The next 10 minutes were filled with chit chat as the woman talked about her grown children and what it was like when they were little. She joked about what we can expect as Eleanor grows and how time flies. Drew & I smiled and visited politely, but that conversation was as equally painful as the one a week before. In the name of casual conversation with a stranger, we pretended that Alex & Emma hadn't existed and that we were first time parents. That sucked, but it was nobody's fault. It still sucked. 
I've shared this particular struggle with you all before, but these two encounters were just a bit more painful because of Emma week. 
Time passes and people forget.  The rest of the world will never know her.  I know that naturally happens and that it will continue to happen as the years go by, but Drew & I will never forget. Certain things and certain times will always bring up emotions and that's okay. Sometimes it still sucks and that's okay, too. That girl sure was one of a kind. Here's to Emma. 


Unknown said...

I have been thinking of her all week. It doesn't seem possible that it has been that long then it seem like yesterday. Love you guys

Unknown said...

we will never forget her

Becky Hogan said...

I have a cousin on my mother's side that is experiencing the same thing. Deb & Tim have (had?) 3 children. The youngest, Tyler, turned 17 on July 4th last year; about 2 wks later he was diagnosed with acute myloid leukemia and died Dec. 26th last year. This month Deb & Tim went on a company trip and faced the same questions--people just chit chatting. When asked, she told the lady sitting next to her on the plane that they had 2 children. Deb said she "felt" Tyler poking her shoulder, "Mom, what about me?" She then broke down in tears and explained the situation. The lady responded that Deb had 2 earthly children and 1 angel. Deb & Tim kinda like that response and are starting to say that. It's a painful question for sure. Love, Aunt Becky