Saturday, June 14, 2014

Making Room

We took down the crib in Anya's room last weekend. We moved the furniture around.

"That took so much courage," said one friend. "I know it must have been difficult," said another. But in truth, it wasn't so difficult.

Anya's room...

Once filled with dreams and joy.

Then came sorrow.

As months passed, Anya's room came to mean many things...

A tie to the past.
Proof that Anya had existed.
A place where we felt connected to our daughter.
A room that waited, with bated breath.


It took a long time for the finality of Anya's death to sink in. No matter what my mind told me, my heart continued to wait for Anya.

But slowly some sort of acceptance started to creep in.

I couldn't accept - still don't accept - that Anya died for a reason, that her journey was meant to end. That's not what I mean by acceptance. But rather, I began to accept that Anya's death meant I would never see her again.

So Anya's room started to feel empty... waiting for someone who would never come.

And all of a sudden, I was ready to pack up Anya's things, dismantle the crib. It felt right.

We made room in our home for the future.

Whatever the future might hold, we dared to move forward.