Dear Baby Girl, my sweet Dorian,
Twenty-five years ago today, you were born into Heaven. My heart died that day right along with you. I prayed for you, to have you, to hold you. I wanted you so desperately. I only had you long enough to know that He heard my prayers and then you were gone. Born asleep, never to know the pain that this life holds, but to also never know my complete love for you, which grieves me to this day.
What would you have been like? Would you have had my eyes, my hair? Would you have liked to watch the birds, too? Would you have been a bashful beauty? Or, would you have been like your daddy, blue eyes, a sense of humor, an outgoing personality, and able to speak in public? These are things I will never know.
What I am sure of is that you would have loved to read, just as your sisters and brothers do. I think that you would have loved My Little Pony, too. Maybe. The others are three against one on that one.
On this day of I miss yous and what would have beens, I wanted to let you know that you are still very much a part of my heart. The two weeks of grief that I was allowed to have and still be considered normal and not a mental case are long past. Saying good-bye to you has become a part of who I am. You are not here. I won’t see you again until Heaven, however long or short a time that may be. Until then, my heart cries for you.
I love you, baby girl. Have a beautiful birthday up there with all of our family. Please hug the folks for me.
“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.” –Washington Irving
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