Emily's rosebush in full bloom near our old driveway.
By the time you read this, we will be in our new home.
I am actually writing this as I sit in the dark and quiet hush of my old home the Friday before. I’m feeling reflective. somber. melancholy, if you will.
For 3 weeks my husband has been living in the new house. No beds, no furniture, very little food. He lives, eats, and breathes work. There is nothing else for him to do since his daily dose of us is missing.
Here, I live, eat, and breathe household chores and the care of my brood. When their tiny voices are all hushed for the night, I have nothing pressing left to do. Because of that, I have found myself up too late, thinking too much.
Something not uncommon to me.
And tonight I think of this house. This home. The place we moved to when little Emily was a mere 4 weeks old. This city was new and fresh. This home was double the size of anything we had lived in before. Ty had taken a promotion. We were nearer to “home.” The smiles on our faces in pictures taken during that time sometimes make me cry.
We looked so young.
When we leave here, we will be leaving much. Some good. Some painful. There are certain places in this city and certain places in this home that hurt more than others. I will no longer have to avoid those places or brace myself for the barrage of memories when I do go there. I haven’t decided if that is good or bad.
Of course, Emily’s things will travel with us. I wonder if the movers notice there is a child missing. Do they see the pain? Do they feel the memories?
Probably not.
We are a joyful bunch here. The scars have all but healed, and what remains tends to only find it’s voice in the hushed darkness of nighttime hours, when quiet tears roll down tired cheeks.
I am sure by the time you read this, I will have shed many of those quiet tears.
We dug up Emmy’s rose bush today. Perhaps by now it is resting its roots in its new home, its new earth in its new city, nestled against its familiar friend, a statue of a baby held in the palm of Jesus. But tonight I look out my kitchen window and see no statue, no rosebush…just turned up dirt where memories once lived.
There is a FOR RENT sign in the yard. Who will live here next? Will they see us in the walls, in the carpets, in the backyard filled with the remnants of the life we lived here? Will they ever know who we were?
Probably not.
It’s a new city. A new job. A new life with new friends. Friends who will have to be told of our Emily…memories forced upon them by a mother who needs people to remember, even if they can’t.
And I cry
quiet tears
in the hushed darkness.
Beautiful post! Praying for you as I turn in tonight.
Praying for you and your family. You’ll be blessed with a fresh new start, but Emily will always be with you and a part of your family, wherever you go. I always stay up way too late thinking also when my husband is away. I’m always so tired the next day, but sometimes it’s cleansing to the soul to just let it all out on those nights, I always feel an extra dose of strength from God afterwards, when I just let it out and give it all to Him.
Dear Amy – I will be upholding you in prayer! I understand the difficulty in leaving a place so full of memories – good and bad!
We rented out our house that we lived in when I lost all five babies. I couldn’t dig up the memorial garden as it was winter at the time. The following summer the house burned down and my garden was killed before I could move the plants.
We are now selling that house (rebuilt) and buying the home we live it. Dh said we can buy new plants and do a new garden here (I saved the stone figures like yours). I’m grateful…….but it won’t be the same.
Some memories are forever locked into a place. But…..maybe that is for the best. (((HUGS)))
Beautiful post Amy. Wishing you and your family the best in your new adventure.
Praying God’s peace and comfort for you as you make this transition. May the new people you meet have understanding and compassion as you share who you are and who your family is, including your precious Emily.
I hope all is settled in your new home and those tears are shed and now quiet. (((HUGS)))
Much Love,
Nicki
We remember the name of your sweet Emily.
Beautiful post and praying you are settling into your new home and surroundings. I can only imagine how this move must feel like…. tears… ((((hugs))))
Are you farther away now from Emily’s gravesite??
Yes, Tanya, we are farther away now.
I cried with you this morning as I read this. Though I have never met you, I am praying for you today. I’m praying that you feel the arms of Jesus around you in a tangible way today as you move into a new, exciting, scary and sad phase. Thank you for sharing.
Amy,
These are such moving words from the love of a mother’s heart, and I know I can’t begin to imagine your grief.
May God richly bless you as you start this new adventure, and may you always lean hard on Him and know His never ending comfort and peace.
Thinking and praying over you. You still have us, we are moving right along with you!! Yay, friends that move alongside of you! Hugs!
Praying for you all as you adjust to the move.
making me choke up over here… praying you all will be blessed in your new home.
we have been on the edge of losing our daughter for over four years… and are now preparing to lose our unborn baby either before it is born or only minutes after birth (I am 22 weeks pregnant)… I have been in this place for a long time, but haven’t been in your place, on the other side of the loss of a child. Praying God carries me as He has you.
Sending a prayer for the move
Oh Amy, I so know this. When we left the house, the garden, the memories of Jonah…it was hard. The part I found the hardest was going to a new place where no one saw me pregnant or knew about Jonah except in pictures. It is a strange thing. I so struggled with not wanting him, like you said, to be forgotten.
Prayers coming your way friend as you settle into a new house, new life always having Emily and the gift of her right there with you. It took me time but I found those who entered in the grief world as much as they could. They didn’t understand totally but they are there when I need them. They say my sons name aloud even though they never have meet him. That blesses me.
((hugs))
Amy,
The Lord bless you and keep you…
and be gracious unto you.. always
Debra
Amy, I’m so glad Emily’s rosebush is going along with you. And… Emily is always remembered here in our home. I think of her often.
May God bless you with new friends who understand and care to hear about all of your children.
I can only imagine how difficult the move has been for you, but I’m so glad to hear that you took the rosebush with you.
I hope you settle into your new home and neighbourhood easily and quickly and that you have a wonderfully exciting time exploring your new area and having fun adventures with your children!
When we moved about 2 years ago I turned to the blogs I read in our old home for my comfort. My internet friends where still right where I left.
Aww, this post is so sad. Beautifully written, though. Going away is a smart thing for you to do, I think – in a new place, many painful memories may slowly fade away (even if not completely). Good luck, hopefully there are many happy memories to be made in your new home!