And it hits…again

I am having a missing moment. Park days on Fridays don’t really get any easier. In fact, innitially, when Jenna was newly gone and it seemed like she would just pop out from behind the playground equipment and come running to me for a handful of goldfish, it was not as hard as it is now. She has been gone so long that her presence in all our old haunts is not as tangible anymore. But little girls and little boys her size, even her old friends, are still there, running and laughing and playing and reminding me of Jenna’s absence.

I carried a little two year old to his mom’s car today. Jenna was such a petite little muffin, and this little boy weighed exactly as much as I remember Jenna weighing. He sat comfortably on my hip, his hand resting on my back like Jenna’s used to, and my younger boys kept up with us, ducking out of his sight and then popping up to make him laugh just like they used to do with their little sister.

I kept my face averted for the most part. I wanted to pretend that I was still holding Jenna. Part of me always wants to go back, ever so foolishly, and feel what it felt like (just for the briefest of moments) to have Jenna here, and to relish in the joy she brought us.

Such a sad post – I know.

Please realise, if you are reading this, that this is not all there is to me. The times of sadness are actually much less than the times of normalcy. And when they come, I have experienced them enough to know that they come…and then they go. They do not define me. They do not rule me. But they do visit every now and then.

A friend of mine asked how I was doing today, and I answered as best I could. I told her we are all fine, but that being at the park isn’t easy because it reminds me of Jenna. She asked me (and I suppose I received her question with a sense of incredulity) whether I think of Jenna every day. Part of me wanted to shake her. Excuse me? How can she think otherwise?

The missing doesn’t hit me every day. But every day holds a myriad of thoughts about Jenna. I can think about her without being consumed with sadness. It helps to mentally release her to Jesus in heaven every now and then. I picture her there, joyously happy with Him, and I whisper: “She is yours, Jesus.” I always feel such a sense of peace when I do that.

But think of her is something I absolutely do every day, and it is something I welcome. It doesn’t always hurt.


15 responses to “And it hits…again

  1. Sumi,
    I loved this post. You described this stage so well. I just wanted to send you a big hug and tell you my heart is feeling you in this post. Love to you and yours,

  2. My heart goes out to you that someone could be that insensitive. How could you ever let a moment go by without the thought and memory of that precious little one fill it? I am keeping you in my prayers and heart.
    I hope that you can continue to remember you little princess in every moment of every day and that the joy of her spirit will outlast the pain of the difficult moments.
    you are an amazing woman. You are an inspiration.
    Tricia (fellow South African 🙂 ) ((( hug )))

  3. you honor jenna in such a wonderful way! i know from experience with my daughter that her sad blogs are not a reflection of her entire day; they are moments in her life that will always be there but she does have many moments of joy now as well. i pray for you and your family and ask for God to bring you more peace. much love, jan

  4. I’m so glad you wrote this post. I know in my own blog I feel the pressure to only write about the hope, the good things, the things I’ve learned. But I also know that I need to be authentic, even at the risk of someone making the assumption that the grieving is all of me.

    I know just how you feel. The longer out you are in the journey, the more the absence is felt.

  5. I know you are in no way implying life could ever be the same now, but I find that ‘normalcy’ now compared to then holds a completely different definition. It is normal to remember and smile every day. It is also normal to feel a twinge (or more) of pain in a memory. Finding life again is like learning to walk all over again or riding a bike for the first time in 20 years. You’re doing it, but it’s never the same as you remember it being.

  6. It’s so good to hear from your honest heart, Sumi. Don’t worry what others think. No one can truly understand because no one else was Jenna’s mother. You’re right to feel however you do, whenever you do. I’m glad the Lord blessed you with another Jenna-sized joyful child on your hip, if even for a moment. All those thoughts that flood your mind of your sweet girl just need to take tangible form sometimes, don’t they? I have thought of your sweet Jenna many times today. Please know she is impacting others, especially me, every day and reminding us to never take a moment for granted. She’s such a beautiful child and it makes me smile to think that my Miller Grace, there without her big sisters, just might be mothered by your little muffin tonight.

    Oh, thank you, Jesus.

  7. Your heart-touching post brought to mind the words of an old hymn…

    Precious memories, how they linger
    How they ever flood my soul
    In the stillness of the midnight
    Precious, sacred scenes unfold.

    Memories are indeed precious, sometimes painful and other times comforting.

    You are in my prayers.

  8. I know exactly what you mean… All of it.

  9. I could relate so much to this post. It is so difficult sometimes because when the sadness comes it can be so overwhelming and you need to get it out. And of course you think of your girl everyday. There is not a single day that has passed that I don’t think of Ethan. It is one of those things that people couldn’t possibly truly understand unless they have endured it.

  10. {{{Sumi and family}}}

  11. You know I know.
    Love and understanding, always.

  12. (((((Sumi)))))

    We know that there is so much more to you. Please know that it is normal for you to think of Jenna everyday, after all she was your daughter and you loved her dearly. I think that sometimes people dont realize that what they say comes out not quite what they meant. Also, if one hasn’t lost a child they really can’t quite ‘get it’. Know that we love you.

  13. Thanks for your honesty (as always) it’s refreshing. I’m always praying for you and your family.


    Cynthia Y.

  14. Hi Sumi. Do you think about Jenna every day???? She was kidding, right? Does she think about *HER* kids every day???? Oy!

    That said, I get it. All of it.

    Many many HUGS!

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