Sunflowers in Your Hair

Dear Abby,

Theo picked a bouquet for you today. I got an email last weekend from Thies Farm saying they had a pick-your-own flower field for the month of August. I didn’t say anything about it but at breakfast, out of no where, Theo said that he wanted to go flower picking. I told him about the email I got but I told him we really didn’t need a whole bucket of flowers. He said he wanted one for my bud vase and the rest would be for you. Today was nice and I was in a horrible mood so I took him and your baby sister to the farm. Theo was very excited when we pulled up and he saw all the plants. “I like this place!” he said.

Do you remember Thies Farm? It’s the last place we took you before you were born. We saw the flower fields then too and took a picture there with them. Daddy held a pumpkin in front of his belly and stood next to me for the picture. It was the same size as you inside my belly. We went inside for instructions and walked out to the flower field. Theo with the bucket of water and me with the scissors. Baby sis trailed behind looking at all the fuzzy bumblebees and flowers. Mostly she watched planes fly overhead and played with mulch. Theo walked slowly through, inspecting every flower and hand selecting each one for you. There was a giant butterfly and Theo made sure to pick almost every flower it visited.

We especially had to walk over to the sunflowers to get some for you. Theo said “Abby likes sunflowers. I know she does.”

I wish now that I had asked him how he knows. But in the moment I didn’t ask. Because I know you do too. I never told anyone. When you were still here that summer a wild sunflower sprouted and bloomed in our front yard. Just one. It was only here for a day before our Landlord’s parents came through and ripped it out and re-mulched and trimmed the bushes like they do once a year. There’s never been any flowers in our yard before or since. Just that one time. Very few people probably ever saw it but I did and I haven’t forgotten. To me, it was you. I wonder how Theo figured out that you like sunflowers.

When we finished, Theo asked for us to go straight to visit you. “Next stop: Abby. Can we go straight there?” When we arrived, I immediately saw that all the little temporary signs were gone. And I started to hyperventilate. I never got an email about your headstone arriving. I thought they’d email or call or send a letter or something. I’ve been waiting. Waiting for 2 years, 9 months, and 13 days. I even corresponded with R to ask when it would come. I was starting to make plans to order one for you. I was going to get two - a matching set. One for your grave at the cemetery and one for a wildflower garden in our backyard. R had said the quarry that donated the rock for all the headstones had closed and they were finding somewhere that would be willing to do it for them and match the other headstones already placed.

But I saw the temporary signs were gone. Theo said “I know where to go” and started to charge ahead a little. I was starting to hyperventilate, “oh God. Oh God.” At first I couldn’t find you. I started to panic. I didn’t mean to but I may have actually cried out “where are you?” Someone had put another baby’s old toy on top of your headstone by mistake - probably trying to replace it but not remembering where it had come from. My heart was racing and I picked it up and moved it to find your name in stone. And I burst into tears.

Theo couldn’t understand why I was crying. I don’t understand either. It almost feels like it’s over. It’s finally the end. I have had two last things on my to-do list for you for the last 2 years, 9 months, and 13 days. “Abby’s headstone/garden stone” was one and I wasn’t ready to cross it off. I wasn’t ready to make that visit yet. I didn’t know it would be today. Your stone was dirty. I didn’t have anything with me to clean it and that really distressed me. I always thought once your stone arrived I would come out each season and clean it and make sure it stayed nice. But I didn’t know it would be there today.

Theo helped arrange the flowers he picked around your stone. He decided one would come home with us for my bud vase. And the rest will be for S. Without him I don’t think you’d ever have gotten a baby sister. His name is synonymous with hope for us. He showed us that your death didn’t have to be the end of the story for our little family. He turns 29 in Heaven tomorrow.

Your baby sister looks like you. She has your nose and cheeks and lips. She’s shorter than you. But I think she has your hair too. In the sun it’s light brown with a hint of red. She’s calmer than you though. And while you liked your pasta with white sauce, she likes red.

I remember when we found out you had hair. I went back to Amazing Grace Ultrasound last week actually. Just to sit in the parking lot so I could feel near to you while I read my book and waited for a little while before it was time to go see your Granny. She was baptized last year. I went to the movies last week with her and I told her about how I almost always go to that theater now because it’s the only one we ever took you to. We saw the new Jurassic World movie and I told her how I saw one of the Jurassic World movies there with you and your dad when you were still here.

So much else has changed too. The pool I took you to so many times reopened this summer. They remodeled it. It’s very nice but it’s completely different. I felt sad knowing that I could never go back and remember you there again because it’s a new place - somewhere you’ve never been. Our friends still talk about that one time they went with us and we spent the day there - we laugh and they talk about how I was your living submarine.

Granny isn’t the only one who’s living for Jesus now. Theo has decided to give his life to the Lord too. And you are a huge part of that decision. He knows Jesus now and wants to learn more and has his own relationship. He says he isn’t afraid of death - he says “it’s just a doorway” and he knows you’ve gone through first and are waiting for him.

Abby, I miss you so much. Sometimes I can go weeks and months without feeling sad even though I never forget you and still think of you daily. But the last month has been really hard. I don’t know why but I have felt my heart breaking all over again. There’s a gap in our family where you should be and I miss you desperately. I can’t be around little girls your age without feeling a horrible ache in my chest. You have a cousin your age now. She came to us last year. Theo got to go play with her a couple weeks ago and they had so much fun playing together. She’s 8 months ahead of you but still it aches to see your big brother playing with a little girl your age and to know he should have gotten to do that every day this year with you.

I want you to know he’s never forgotten you. He even remembers what he was wearing when he came to the hospital and finally got to meet you in person. He forgot the Smoky Mountains but he’s never forgotten you. Abby, I so badly wanted to take you to the Smokies. I wish we had but we were so afraid to travel and they didn’t tell us it was okay until it was too late. I read in a book this year that the Smokies are also sometimes nicknamed the Wildflower Mountains and that was such a comfort to me. We went again this year and we did see wildflowers. Daddy bought me a mug while we were there. A mug with purple coneflowers. I drink out of it every day - sometimes twice a day - and miss you.

I love you so much. And I know you are alive and well and safe. I know I will see you again. It could be so soon. I could see you today or tomorrow. Whenever I say that, Daddy adds that it could also be a very long time. Usually I feel you, “Abigail” - the Father’s Joy. Today I feel the grief. The love with nowhere to go. No where but that headstone.

I’m going to come back soon with the tools I need to clean your headstone. I’m sorry I didn’t have them with me today. I thought there would be time and I wasn’t ready. But I am now. And I will take care of it like Momma wishes she could take care of you.

My little wildflower, you are growing up so fast. Your 3rd birthday is just around the corner. Theo goes to Kindergarten next week and the weather has already started to cool down for a day here and there. It will be Fall any minute - the time when I miss you most of all.

I decided what I want to do for your birthday this year with Theo and baby sis. I almost wish you were able to spend your birthday with us. Almost. I can almost even say the words “I wish you were…” But I can’t. I can’t say it or even think it. Because just a little more than I wish that, I know with certainty how well you are. Well and whole. What I do wish is I wish I knew what your favorite color is. What color the jewels in your tiara are.

Since I don’t know that, I am going to assume you’ve opted for a flower crown instead. And from what Theo says, I bet you have sunflowers in your hair. Your light brown hair with just a hint of red like baby sis.

A family came up and surprised me as I was weeping over your stone. There's never been any other visitors when I've come to "see" you. I moved away to a bench and sat and cried and waited for them to leave before I went back over to touch your stone some more. I could have stayed a lot longer but baby sis needed to take a nap. Plus - Theo was running around climbing on the large headstones (I should probably talk to him about how to be a little more reverent when we visit) and sister kept picking up the little toys on the other babies' headstones so I couldn't give you all my attention like I wanted to. You poor middle child! Ha. I guess some things are the same in life and death.

We stopped for lunch and then drove home. "Goodbye Yesterday" was on Joy FM. I turned it up and Theo and I both belted it out together. I felt the grief begin to lift as I sang it: "I'm dancing on the grave that I once lived in!" Well how's that for irreverent!!! Forget about climbing headstones and picking up toys - I can't wait to dance with you on the grave YOU once lived in! Because that's the truth. That's a grave part of you is in. But you aren't dead. You're living and someday we will dance on it together. I’d forgotten how to fight the darkness: with a song. But I felt you again just a moment ago as I let go and started singing. Just as you were with me in my womb as I screamed out praise songs in defiance of death 3 years ago. You are in the throne room and I can be there with you any moment I choose - all I have to do is open this mouth and sing praise to the King who is coming to fix all of this. I knew He was coming then and I know still that He is coming. It’s just a matter of time.

Momma and Daddy and Theo all remember you and we still love you so much, Abby girl.

With all my heart,

your Momma