I know sometimes that these blogs have a sad desperate side to them, well I won't deny it its a sad painful subject that needs a release. I love and appreciate all of you who have and continue to support us. Some people feel you just need time to get over it....or I know how you feel. Well much as I appreciate the sentiments it is hard to accept that I will ever get over it or that someone else other that my wife can know how much it hurts. I know people are trying to help in their own way and that includes trying to reassure the grieving and to provide hope. Well let me tell you something about hope. It is not just a word to me. This is what "hope is" to me.
I hope. I hope hard. I hope so long. I hope that Ivy can hear me and the words that I need to say to her.
As I held my daughter for the last five minutes of her life as the machines that sustained her life were turned off I cradled her tightly in my arms. Kissing her forehead and telling her it was ok. She didn't have to hurt any more. That she was loved. That is was ok for her to go so she could rest.
What I wanted to say to her was please don't leave me Ivy. Please. Let me hold your hand and leave here with you. Let daddy make it better, let me protect you from death.
As I sat with her alone for a few minutes during that long night I held her hand and sang her favorite lullaby. The one that I sang to all three of my girls when they were frightened or scared. I sang the words to her even though I am no great musician and told her about my love for her. I have not been able to sing it since to my beautiful twins because my throat tightens and my vocal cords lock as my eyes fill with tears.
I need to tell her that I would travel through hell to find her. I would give up my own life to save her. I would set her free even though it destroyed me.
It is late. In fact while writing this a new day has dawned. I sit here in the living room close to those I love the most in this world. Yet no matter how close I am...no matter that I could go up the stairs and hold them in my arms....there is an emptyness. A part of me that died that day. If given the opportunity to lessen the pain were given to me I would not take it. I would not lessen the love and adoration I had for my child. I would not permit her memory to be marred in any way by any short comings of mine.
So I must stand strong. I must be the person who will be deserving of the love she freely gave to me. I must be the father and husband my wife and twins deserve to help them through this trying time. I beg god daily for the strenght to just make it through one more day. Just one more. And then beg the next day for the strength to once again make it through one more day.
I think daily of her death, how as I readied myself to close her casket I pulled her favorite yellow blankie around her and tucked her in tight one last time. Stroked her hair and touched her hand for the last time on this earth and then closed the casket. Closing away that part of my life into the past where it must stay no matter how I try and drag it into the present.
I just want to hold your hand one more time little one, to hold you in my arms and let you kiss my cheek. To hear you day in your beautiful voice "I love you dadya" She always loved to call me dadya because she heard her older sisters do it.
As always Ivy,
Love daddy, the proudest name I could ever have from my little girl.
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