Monday, January 19, 2009

2 Years Later - Remembering Elsa

This is Matt. I'm going to start a message on today's two year anniversary of our surgery in Cinncinnati and Melissa is going to follow with her message.

This anniversary is a lot easier then the last anniversary. It's largely because we're so happy with Bea. She's just so much fun and a great distraction. Time also is mending my heart, but I don't think I ever want it to mend fully and don't think it will. It's still crazy to stop and think that Bea has an identical twin and to wonder what that would be like and what'd she be like. Through all of our ultrasounds we easily determined Bea was the lively twin with all of the energy and that matches with her current personality and mannerisms. Elsa was the more mature and reserved twin. Thus I'd expect her to act that way. Just this morning Bea was hiding her spoon in her high chair from me then would go "Where's spoon" with her arms up and hands out and a questioning face with raised brows, when I'd say "I don't know" she'd snatch the spoon out and say "Here it is" and then laugh three times "ha, ha, haaaa.". That's Bea. Elsa would be something different.

Two nights ago I walked Bullet and the star constellation that I think Melissa has identified as Elsa's constellation was staring right at us through down the street between the tall trees and right above the horizon. It was over the nature center with limited moon so it was extremely bright. It made me feel very warm and like Elsa was saying hi. I said hi to her. I love that constant reminder.

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This is Melissa. It’s too bad the sky is so cloudy tonight and we can’t see the stars. Grandma Liz and Grandpa Dick sent us the most amazingly perfect card for today, it says:


Just before you go to bed tonight,
Look out your window…
See that one little star shining down just for you?
Every time it twinkles, it’s me saying I love you and I miss you,
And I can’t wait until you’re here with me again.


Today was such a busy day for work that I felt guilty and sad that I wouldn’t be able to spend too much time on Elsa, but as I was leaving the house at 6:30 this morning, two little deer ran in front my car and one stopped to look. She probably stayed in front of my car for 30 seconds. I know the deer were too young to be the twins I used to associate with Bea and Elsa two summers ago, but I still thought it was Elsa sending me a “hello” and telling me it was ok to go about my day.


Elsa is still with me every day. Sometimes consciously, sometimes she shows up in my unconscious – and sometimes I just look at Bea and think, “Wow. There could have been two of them.”


I used to dream about Elsa a lot. Elsa and Bea as 5- or 6-year-olds riding bikes by a lake was a pleasant recurring dream for awhile. I really haven’t been dreaming much at all lately, though, except for a dream I had the other morning that I will never forget. The majority of the dream was a horrible nightmare. The first thing I remember was Matt telling me that, “The baby is gone.” I assumed he meant Bea, and I was frantically running through this unfamiliar, large building – sobbing and angrily pushing over furniture and slamming doors. I was going through the motions of searching, but I knew somehow that I wasn’t going to find her.

Eventually, I flung open the doors to a large patio overlooking a beautiful valley and saw a nicely dressed lady leaning on a railing looking over the valley. It was sunny and warm, but I was still angry and I shouted to the woman, “Do you have my baby!?” As the lady slowly turned to face me, she said “yes” with a drawl that distinctly belonged to my Grandma Marcie. It was when I saw the wide smile and the sunshine lighting my Grandma’s healthy face that I realized the baby I was searching for was Elsa. With a twinkle in her eye, Grandma said, “Yes, she’s with us and we SO enjoy having her there. She’s JUST beautiful.” Right at that point the real-world Bea woke me up. It was morning. At the time, I was disoriented, exhausted, and just relieved that Bea was safe. But, in the last few days I’ve come to realize how lucky I am that I know both Grandma and Elsa are warm, safe, and happy, too.


I wish the same to everyone who is reading this blog and missing someone special.

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