of stone and God thinking of me

I stopped in at a marble tile and counter company yesterday. Just to look and see what they might have for lovely stone for a possible memorial for Paige. As I drove up the long driveway, I could see hundreds of huge counter top slabs, some 10 feet long and just as tall, lined up like dominoes, making an "S" through the large yard. Did they carry memorial stones? No. She gave me the names of a couple local monument companies. "Hmm" I said. "But who wants to go to a monument company? They're way too gloomy and funeral-y." She told me that some people buy slabs like this to make into flush monuments. "Good." I said. "I'll look around."

Paige loved rocks. She loved throwing rocks. I love looking at rocks. When I was a little girl, one of my favorite summer pastimes was sifting through the sand by the side of the road, looking for tiny garnet fragments. I went panning for gold in Vermont one summer and found hundred and hundreds of marble-sized garnets. I design jewelry, and love buying and owning and sorting and touching all of the various stone beads, more than I like making anything. And so this yard, filled with hundreds of slabs of granite, marble, and all kinds of amazing conglomerations was wonderful. And sad.

I found three I loved. One had garnet pebbles all throughout, another had a background that was a blue/grey/almost purple. (I was on the hunt for something in the purple family. It was my favorite color to dress Paigey in.) The yard attendant came out to help me, and when I told her I was looking for something purple, suggested I might like something called "blue eyes." I did. It was gorgeous, and had amazing iridescent bluish lavender spots.

On the way into the showroom to write down my favorites, I said, "She was two." And started to cry. The attendant touched my back sympathetically. When we stepped inside, I heard the most beautiful piano music playing. It was Billy Joel. Playing "Goodnight My Angel" the song we had at Paige's memorial service.

A teary week

I cried a bunch this week. The latest time was this morning when the guy who bought my old volvo towed it away. That's the car I used to drive Luke and Paige to preschool in, back when Ben was in Iraq. A perceived link to Paige gone. And so I cried.

luke

Monday the 10th was the one year mark of losing Paige. A few days before, I was talking to Luke, and explained that on Monday it would be one year since Paige had died. I expected him to say something serious or sad; sometimes when we talk about Paige, he gets teary and says, "I'm starting to cry."

This time, to my surprise he said, (with enthusiasm) "She must have had the funnest year ever!" It made me smile.

My adorable baby

A chance to help

A family that lives near us had a tragedy earlier this year. Their third grade daughter was killed in an accident at home. Through their grief the parents created an amazing foundation that helps other parents going through the death/illness of a child. Check them out, the site is jaidensangel.org

They have all my respect, and I hope I can meet their family some day. I know that we would have fallen apart if it hadn't been for the amazing support of our family and friends during Paige's illness, and then after her death. They did so much for us. Jaidens Angel provides that kind of support to families who perhaps don't have the strong network that our family had.

We're doing ok. I think that Luke and I should re-enroll in grief counseling. Time is passing, but not the grief. It seems like I'll have to wait so long to see Paige again. I feel silly, telling the same stories, recalling the same memories, but they're all I have. I don't know what's she's like today, how perhaps she has grown and changed.

I can't wait to see her again.

An August afternoon