Light

2 weeks from today will be one year.  One year.  I can't even wrap my head around the fact that it's been one year.  

A year of....

missing

confusion

seeking

ache

pain

hurt

tears

isolation

But, also a year of....

growth

love

peace

gratitude

loss of fear

prayer

awareness

learning

patience

The days surrounding Livia's passing were extremely hot.  I can remember at one point sitting on my closet floor struggling to know what to wear.  I wanted to be comfy in leggings, a t-shirt, and a sweater.  I wanted the fall weather.  I wanted the cool, crisp September air.  Instead, it was sweltering outside.  I was uncomfortable.  The day she died, the sun was out bright as ever.  It was hot.  I remember walking her body outside.  Barefoot; stinging from the hot blacktop.  We watched the car pull out of our drive with her body, and all we had left was the sun hitting our skin.  The sun was now our comfort.  Even this summer, Jake and I would sit in the heat and both remark how we used to hate the heat, and now it feels like a familiar friend sitting with us.  The next few days after she died, we'd notice the sky.  It wasn't like we hadn't seen the vibrant, painted sky before, but now it was different.  We'd notice the sky and feel a sense of calm.  Like it was being painted just for us.  It was a comfort, and a reminder of her.  Maybe it's because of the way Livia painted our life with her own light.  We'd always sing to her:

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away

It's funny because when we'd sing this song to her when she was really little, she'd cry.  I think she knew there was a sadness to this song.  It wasn't a full on cry, but a quiver in her lip or short whimper.  When I looked up this song, the first verse of the song is this:

The other night dear, as I lay sleeping

I dreamed I held you in my arms

But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken

So I bowed my head and I cried

I have not dreamt of Livia this year.  I've hardly dreamt at all.  I've always been a literal dreamer, and have remembered my dreams.  All I've wanted is to have a dream of her.  One that feels so real.  One that we have a conversation.  One that she tells me she's ok.  One that she assures me that when we see the vivid painted sky, that it is really her giving us a sign.  I know it will come.  I hope it comes.  One of my friends told me that I haven't dreamt of her yet because I spend so much of my awake time thinking of her, that it's my mind's opportunity to rest.  I liked that.  It's maybe true.

We continued to sing this song to Liv throughout the rest of her life.  She really is our sunshine.  As is Finley.  Our girls bring so much light into our lives.

The September skies have been showing up lately.  I grab my camera almost every sunrise and sunset to freeze the fleeting colors.  I especially love the quiet mornings when the colors catch me off guard.  It's like a nice surprise.  It's like a familiar friend showing up to say hi! 

On September 23rd, we will be launching lanterns into the September sky.  Our hope is that you will join us.  We'd love to look out over our community and see the sky light up as we remember our girl who lit up our lives. (here are some environmentally safe lanterns that you can write a message on. LANTERNS) 

The lists I put in the beginning; you can't have one without the other.  That pain and miss that we feel because she's no longer physically with us goes with the gratitude that we had her.  The peace of knowing her broken body is no longer holding her back is comfort, but it will never stop the hot tears from coming.  It's resting in knowing that both are ok.  Both will be forever.  It will always take work.