Bailey. And Mom. And Me.

Bailey Boles, your birthday is January 10th.  My mother’s mother’s birthday is January 10th.  On January 10th, 2019, my mother, your Granbob, was in hospice care, and I so strongly feared (and maybe a little bit hoped?) that her life was going to end that same day.  It didn’t.  But two days later, on January 12th, just hours after you and I shivered and danced and laughed our way through these annual birthday photos, and I returned to her bedside and held her hand…it did.  So as I look at these pictures, sweet Bill, I not only see the greatest blessing of my perfect daughter, but I am swallowed by the massive void left by my own precious mama.  My heart rips into pieces and then instantly mends itself together again, over and over.  I can’t understand the loss of her.  And you can’t comprehend my love for you.  I am learning the undeniable relationship between love and grief and joy and loss.  They all intertwine in a way that seems grossly unfair, but is completely inevitable.

You, my daughter, are joy.  Many nights, you fall asleep holding my hand.  Two nights ago, you rolled over, smacked your lips a few times, and then announced the name of your current “crush”, clear as day, before drifting right back into a peaceful snooze.  You are shameless in the most beautifully innocent way.  I would wonder what goes on in that head of yours…except I know!  Because boy, do you tell me!  Daily.  Hourly.  Inexhaustibly.  Every little thing that you’re thinking.  I cherish the privilege of having that access, and I hope it never changes.

I haven’t known how to talk about things yet.  I still don’t.  I feel like I’m only able to communicate in sound bytes and platitudes. I’m stumbling through so much emotion and I just feel paralyzed anytime I try to gather and present my thoughts. But I know for certain that I don’t want the JOY of YOU to be dimmed by the grief that life will continue to throw at us. You are my perfect Sunny B, and I celebrate you, even on, especially on, the darkest days.
I love you fiercely, Bailey Boles.  And so did your Granbob.  It was the same way that she loved me.