Jori and I were talking about babies with heads full of hair and I happened to mention Miss Monkey had what her Aunt Jen referred to as a "baby wig".
Look at that crazy hair! The baby was nothing but big blue eyes, hair and cheeks.
Oh was she a lovey. Oh what a personality. She was so utterly engaging. She hated to go to sleep because she just knew she was going to miss something. We would take walks in the evenings and the path would lead us past a retirement/nursing home. We would wave to the ladies sitting on the porch and eventually began to walk up and visit. Miss Monkey would charm the pants off the ladies, flirting outrageously with them.
Hannah never met a person who wasn't a friend. It was therefore quite hard for her when she realized not everyone felt that way. Oh the heartbreak. It broke my heart. :o(
I feel as if I'm forgetting so many things about her, that she's slipping from my memories. I only had almost six years with her. I've been six years and a month without her. I've forgotten how she smells, the sound of her rich belly laugh, the feel of her hand in mine.
I can see snippets in my mind's eye, but that's it. They flash through my brain like a rapid-fire slide show, fleeting and quickly gone, not there long enough for me to grasp and hold onto.
I no longer look for her in the faces of the little girls around me. I no longer catch my breath in startled surprise when I catch a glimpse of a small girl with a certain haircut out of the corner of my eye. She's well and truly gone, and I suppose, somewhere along the way I finally accepted that.
As I wrote Amy this morning, my yo isn't up, nor is it down--it's just hanging out waiting to swing one way or the other. The what-ifs and could've beens do nothing but cause me sorrow and anxiety, so I try hard not to play that game. I have a hard time imagining what she would look like as a 'tween. Would those cheeks still be full and round? What about those eyes? Would I be allowing her to wear mascara on those gorgeous lashes she had?
Thoughts such as those just bring me down. There are days when I wish to wallow in that sorrow and sadness, but they don't happen so often anymore. There was a time when I would embrace those down days. Now I just think, "I don't have time for this!"
I think that's the wrong attitude. I must make the time. That pain is real and true and there because there was once a little bright Monkey with big blue eyes who found nothing but delight and wonder in the world around her. That pain should be embraced as a remembrance of the Monkey-shaped hole left in my heart.