My Dearest Sonne --
A year has passed since we said goodbye to you. Some days are good. Some are awful. You are never far from our thoughts and you are always in our hearts.
I will forever be grateful for the time we had with you. Thoughts of your smile brighten my days. Remembering the way you always seemed happy, despite the poking and prodding of doctors and nurses, fills me with such pride. You were such an easy baby.
We are proud of you. You are our little, little and you are amazing. You touched our lives in ways we never dreamed possible.
Your name means "sun" in German. In so many ways you were perfectly named. Your smile brightened the room and now you shine upon us every day. I always felt an affinity for sunflowers and how, no matter what, they will lift their heads to face the sun every day. And now, every day as I lift mine it is to you, my daughter. You give me strength and hope.
We were in Hawaii a few weeks ago. We saw your sunrise from the Haleakala crater. It was magnificent. Daddy watched from the lookout station while I sat in the car with Morgen. She slept in my lap and I cried. I told her more stories about you and how much we love you both.
During the days Morgen would chase waves on the beach while you shone down upon us.
In the evenings we would watch your sunset from the lanai. You would bathe us all in the most beautiful light. You never failed to put on a brilliant show.
Now back in Los Angeles we find ourselves wishing for a better view of the sunrise and sunset. A better vantage point from which to glimpse your light.
With every sunrise we heal. With every sunrise we remember. With every sunrise we honor you and your life, albeit far too short. And with every sunset we say goodnight and look forward to the morning when we get to bask in your glow again.
Wednesday was the first anniversary of your surgery. As difficult as that day was, I am so thankful that the surgeon was delayed. We had two more hours to hold you, to be with you, to see you smile.
Yesterday I cried. I cried long and hard for the times I wasn't with you. I cried out my guilt over not being able to be in the hospital with you. After nine weeks in the NICU, I just wanted to be home with my girls. I didn't want to be separated from either of you, but I couldn't bear to be sitting in a hospital room. The NICU was so different from CHLA. The nurses that Cedars became a kind of extended family. We always had someone to talk to. The CHLA staff, while incredibly skilled, tended to leave us alone and I desperately didn't want to be alone. And yet I will always be thankful for your CTICU nurse Lily. She had been caring for your since surgery and, though she was scheduled to have the day off, she came in to care for you on your last day. I suspect she knew your heart wasn't healing. Even so, her willingness to be there for us meant so much.
And today I woke up feeling hopeful. Perhaps it is because a year ago your struggles ended. You were finally able to be at peace. You were finally free.
Your Oma and Opa are here with us today. The family is heading to the garden to your meadow. Your Aunt Tanya and Uncle Chris are meeting us there too. Your sun is shining and it is a beautiful day. We are going to bask in your warmth and celebrate your life.
109 days.
Whoever could have predicted that a life so short would leave such an indelible mark upon so many?
We love you and miss you. You are forever in our hearts.
Xoxoxoxoxo...Mommy, Daddy, and Morgen
Ps...Morgen just started walking this week. I suspect she will show you herself while we are visiting.
