In my heart, I can hear her sing!

My daddy asked me how I deal with “this time of year”.

 

Today is the third anniversary of my niece’s death. This week has had several numbing moments.

 

When daddy asked me that question, it caused me to think about some struggles that I had dealt with in the previous years and how different things seem to be this year.

 

I’m not in KY. This is the first Spring Break that I didn’t drive down to visit my sister and her family. I will not visit Abby’s grave this week. I can’t tell you how much I have missed my niece Mary this week and her brothers. I longed to embrace them and hold them close to me. My sister was going to come here last week with the whole family, that is partially why I didn’t make plans to visit them this week, because I was going to get to see them. Her husband Todd did come with their eldest son Alex. Todd graciously took off a whole week from work to help my mom and dad work on their new house. What a son in law! I was blessed to have some quality time with my nephew Alex during their visit, but that made me miss Caleb, Mary, and Jackson all the more. Alex sure did talk about them a lot.

 

My memories of Abby are fading…

 

I can’t smell Abby anymore. This may be strange to you. I didn’t realize that I had a scent associated with her until I tried to remember her sweet smell and the softness of her hair against my chin as she had sat in my lap listening to me read stories to her.

 

I also was having trouble hearing her voice. I can’t hear Abby say my name anymore. That visit, the days before her death, was the first time she had called me “Aunt Lizzie”. I do remember Abby calling butterflies “fies”, but I can’t hear her say it anymore. Especially today, this was really starting to bother me. On my way home from work this evening, I started singing a praise song that is often sung at my sister’s church. Then I could hear Abby’s voice! I remember Abby singing those words, “holy holy holy Lord”. I can actually hear her voice singing in worship. I started weeping. Then I thanked God for that little gift. I was amazed how it had brought my thoughts heavenward to where Abby is now, praising her Lord and singing in his presence. My story doesn’t end here, nor my tears. I thought I had had my “cry” for today. But when I got home, I opened my sister’s blog, and this is what I found.