I’ve done a lot of thinking and remembering in these last few days leading up to Clara’s first birthday. Earlier this week, I went through the memory box that we received from the hospital, taking time to appreciate these treasures that help us capture our short time with Clara.
We have a stack of cards from dear friends. We have a lock of Clara’s soft dark hair. We have her hand prints and footprints, both in ink and in ceramic. I am immeasurably grateful for each piece of treasured memorabilia. They are all we have left, and they are irreplaceable.
At the bottom of the memory box, I found the poem that my sister-in-law Mishelle read at Clara’s memorial service. It is lovely and brings tears to my eyes.
Of course, nearly everything does that these days.
It is cathartic to remember, to mentally experience all of those sensations and emotions again. We have many photographs that I haven’t looked at since last July. It is heartbreaking to look at them now. I had already forgotten so many details of my poor sweet baby’s beautiful face and body.
It is sad to remember, but it is good to remember.