As I sat, early yesterday morning, in the Memorial Garden at church directly facing the little corner of the garden that we placed your ashes one month ago, sitting on a chair that was wet with condensation and thinking I should have brought a blanket or a small heater, getting ready to begin our Easter service, the first thing that came to mind was, "Geez, Chelsea must be freezing". Then I thought about how appropriate that not only could we share in the Easter service with "you" present but that you had a spot that put you front and center (always trying to upstage everyone...even Jesus) to the entire service. I sat there staring at the little spot of missing grass, thinking about how I should have worn shoes that covered my toes as to keep them from falling off from the bitter cold, when I heard Father Scott talking about Resurrection. This grabbed my attention. He spoke about the story of Jesus's Resurrection and the different versions of the story, but in my head I couldn't help but think about you.
Later that day, at our grandmother's house, a conversation had just barely begun about the going ons of the day up to that point, when mother brought up Father Scott's sermon about Resurrection, in her pain filled voice she told our grandmother how she wished you could be resurrected. This struck a chord with me, but in the chaos of the moment and the recent arrival of more relatives, I tossed it aside.
We had the Easter Egg hunt, as always, but with yet another piece of the puzzle missing. Someone asked who would like to be the lucky person in charge of counting, hiding, and remembering where the eggs were for the kid's hunt and Devin and Austin got volunteered for the job. As I sat on the couch watching them toss the eggs to their respective hiding spaces I thought to myself (and perhaps out loud), "Chelsea always hid the eggs." I thought about how you loved to hide eggs in high up places or in your pocket because you got some kind of sick enjoyment out of outsmarting a bunch of kids under the age of 5.
At one point, we all gathered around the dining room table to celebrate Sophie's 4th birthday, it came to me that she only got less than 4 years with you. I then thought about Kayden and how she will not even remember the sound of your voice or the way that you looked, that we will have to show her pictures of you and point and say, "This is your Aunt Chelsea, she died when you were just a baby." I looked to Reagan, who through this whole ordeal, has been very difficult for me to read (she is like her father in this respect). She has either been very stoic or extremely oblivious. I am leaning more towards the latter. She will most definitely remember you because of the enormous impact you have had on her childhood, I'm just not sure that she realizes that just yet. To all of them, though, the day seemed untouched by your absence, but that is just as it should be, right? I remembered how we used to fight over who was the cooler, better aunt and how I used to yell at you for cheating because you would bribe them with candy (that you took from my house) and toys (that you actually took from their own toy boxes). I think all of the girls got robbed of time with you but I know from Sophie's silly and playful tendencies and Reagan's sarcastic and conniving ways that you definitely left your mark on them.
On the way home that afternoon, after Jared and Reagan had fallen asleep (this seems to be a trend), I started thinking about Mom's comment about resurrection earlier that afternoon. In my conception of resurrection, and I may have this all wrong, you are resurrected everyday. When I wake up in the morning and you are on my mind, when I am walking through the grocery store and see a box of brownies, when a cheesy movie comes on the TV, when I hear a song that we sang to, even in this blog, you are resurrected. Mom and I had a discussion the other day about how people were afraid to say your name or mention a story that had you in it for fear of "upsetting" someone. We talked about how it was important that people keep talking about you, so that you are never forgotten, and that remembering you could never be upsetting. I thought about how every time someone mentioned you, you were resurrected, maybe not physically but in some capacity.
I was thinking yesterday, when Jared and I were surveying Reagan's mass candy reserves that had begun to overflow, about how I never had to worry about candy going to waste because you would shamelessly and happily steal absurd amounts of it from Reagan while she wasn't looking. I sure do miss you not being here to steal Reagan's candy out of her basket, especially after the load she got yesterday. Hopefully there was some kid you could "borrow" (cause I am pretty sure they don't allow stealing in Heaven) some candy from in Heaven.
 |
| So Chelsea... |
No comments:
Post a Comment