Ainsleigh and I have taken many walks together. When we lived in Davenport, we would take the bike path down to the park about a mile away. I would push Ainsleigh in the stroller. She was entertained without my help and my mind could wander. After Addie's death, this walk became my therapy. There was a sense of quiet and a break from my little world at home and all the reminders of my life and what had happened. I could just enjoy the blue sky, the green grass, the hum of activity going on around me, the sense of anonymity where no one knew the trauma that had just radically changed our lives. Ainsleigh and I watched Spring burst forth.
There was a section of the path where we passed underneath trees, crossing over a little bridge where the sky was shaded from our view. There in the darkness, all the emotions would swell up...the fear, the feeling of being so alone and so helpless, knowing that no one could really help me heal from this tremendous loss, but also knowing that I had to continue pushing forward, being the Mother Ainsleigh needed, the Wife Tim needed. And my needs, well, I didn't even really know what they were. As we walked beneath the trees, I found myself crying out to my God. Asking him why this had to happen, feeling completely exposed to Him, letting him see my tremendous grief and its impact on my heart. It was as if I had been stifling my screams of pain, but there I let them go.
As time passed and Spring turned into Summer I found myself looking forward to that section of our walk. I started to feel God's presence and peace under those trees and I felt him whisper on the breeze, He knew my needs and the desires of my heart and He would be my strength. I remember one especially difficult day when I felt so broken, we entered through the trees and hundreds of little white butterflies (moths?) flew towards us. It was so beautiful! I will never forget that feeling, the peace and the privacy. It will always be special to me.
Now we have moved away and I have thought a lot about our walks and leaving that place, that section of our walk where I felt God's presence so strongly and the sense that Addie was looking down on us from Heaven, letting us know that she was full of joy and peace and that she knew we loved her.
Last week we were driving to our new home in the country. I realized that there is a section where the tops of the trees cross over the road and the road curves beneath them. I remembered how beautiful it looked there in the fall as I drove through the shade. It brought back memories of our walks on the bike path and those moments in the shade. It was a beautiful day and the air smelled strongly of Spring.
I remembered also, how the day after Addie died, three years ago, we were leaving home to attend to the planning of her funeral feeling like it was all so unreal. As we walked outside we noticed that the daffodils had bloomed. Many people commented on it, how beautiful they were and how they weren't there the day before.
It spoke volumes to my heart. Just as Spring was bursting, my baby girl's soul was bursting forth into Heaven! I imagine it with a beautiful bright light, the singing of angels, and tremendous joy that she is with her heavenly father for eternity. It was three years ago, but I remember it as if it was yesterday. And every Spring brings with it reminders. They are semi-sweet in many ways. But it is amazing how God provides moments and places where we can remember them peacefully. I am so blessed that I can always associate my daughter's entrance to heaven with the blooming of the daffodils.
