Right after Christina asked me to write an entry for her blog I went into the pantry to get something to drink & looked at the picture on my fridge. The choice of what to write about was settled.
On November 28,1993 I celebrated Sarah's 7Th birthday with her @ The Ronald McDonald House. I wrote an entry about her on my AOL journal in 2007 which I will revisit here~
I have a picture of Sarah's House on my fridge. When I bought the new fridge, I placed the picture in a sheet protector & put it up again. Sarah's House looks a lot like mine, except her grass is always trimmed :-).
Sarah made the picture for me at one of our many art sessions while I was a volunteer at The Ronald McDonald House. She said it was the house I lived in(she visited a lot), & she wanted one just like it some day.
We were super close. I love you no I love you more close. Eat Cheese Whiz off each other's fingers close. Rush into my arms close. Her parents asked me to do part of her eulogy close.
At first I didn't think I could do that, but I did & I paid for the funeral also...for a very selfish reason...I wanted to feel I did as much as I could for her.
Lots of things were done by many wonderful people who touched her life...all leading(hopefully) to the ever elusive acceptance.
Years later, many people involved have accepted it. Flawed as I am, I have not.
I try not to pass the park I used to take her to without stopping & watching the kids play for her. I go once a year to see if the little garden she planted outside her old apartment window is still there. Yes, it is(in 07 it was, it has since been removed).
I will sometimes start when I hear someone yell ~Sarah. I stopped shopping for a while at the store her mom cashiered at, thinking I might be an unwelcome reminder...but I am always content to look up on my fridge at Sarah's House. When she made that picture for me she was smiling & laughing & pain free.
A few months later, while we were out playing, she winced. I asked her if she was in pain. She said it was okay; it happened a lot & she wanted to keep playing.
It isn't OK. It just isn't.
I can accept my pain easily. I sometimes can accept my Father's pain. I still cannot accept her 7 year old pain.
I had a superb dream about her last night. I have dreamed about her in the past, but it is usually not as pleasant(refer back to previous paragraph as to why).
I am certain it was just my inner voice, but she told me something pretty amazing about my Dad. I am going to hold her to it.
And just like her, I am going to keep playing, no matter what.