That's My Baby Sister

"That's my baby sister. I miss her so much." Iris picks up Ella's photo a few times a month and says this to Lennox and me. Lennox's response is always the same: a thoughtful and wise and painful "but she's dead". They look to me and I say I miss her, too. Sometimes we say more, and sometimes we don't.

I am broken. The thought of never holding Ella again breaks me in ways I don't know how I survive. When I feel like I'm not the mother they deserve, I remember my belief that they chose me. My children knew I would be broken and they chose me anyway.

They sometimes see my grief and my sadness and my anger. They see my brokenness. Inside of all of that, and all around it, there is also love and patience and a need to live purposefully and love unconditionally and unapologetically.

I hope they see it all. I hope they learn from it all. Because that's why we're here.

For however long.