Jan. 23, 2015

Some days, my child, the grief of losing you simply is too much. I grieve my 25-year-old Jessica, the beautiful, gracious woman with quick wit, an amazing mind, a generous spirit, open arms, and unending love, not to mention a snortty laugh.

I miss my 22-year-old Jess, so confused and broken, so angry, stubborn, and yet needy, though a very hard person for this mother to be around, I could do nothing right. But no matter. You know and knew, I hope, that I’ve always loved you even when I didn’t liked the things you were doing.

I miss my wonderfully curious and adventurous teenager, even though as all teenagers do, the older you got the less you wanted or needed me around. You tasted freedom and wanted to soar. All the secrets a teenager keeps close to her heart…But look out world. Jessica was ready to take over. We never knew how much you were suffering for loving and losing, for trusting people who were never worth your loyalty.

And then the child who could never be mean to her mommy (your words, not mine). The fabulous soccer player, horse rider, hiker, pottery painter, Irish dancer…The girl who needed to try everything though seldom stuck to anything (except soccer, of course). Nonetheless, you broadened your spirit, mind, and knowledge of all things possible. Always seeking something new. You smiled so much, but cried just as easily when your gentle heart was broken. And yes, you could talk the ear off a deaf man. The gorgeous photo of you dressed up for First Communion, looking at the camera with such innocence and excitement sits on your altar. My girl.
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And then I grieve so overwhelmingly my little Jessie Bear. The bright star child that everyone adored even with your endless chatter, your need to communicate with the world. You were born with so many questions and even more answers. I’ll never forget how the preschool rules were bent when you were allowed to join at 2 1/2, so eager and excited to play with all the children, do art projects, and sit in circle singing your tiny heart out. Such a very good girl.

But Jess, just as much do I miss my tiny baby cuddling in my arms, always staring deeply into my eyes, grasping my finger, hair or jewelry, falling asleep so peacefully with no cares or fears. And even further, my unseen, unborn soul-child whom I know I’ve loved far before conception. So close to my beating heart, so entirely a part of me.

So, my girl, you see I grieve and love not just the woman you became and the woman you were yet to become, but the many hundreds, thousands of you who are the stars of all my Jessica dreams and memories. Pablo told me when he learned he had cancer that he didn’t mind dying but he just couldn’t live with the pain. There is no morphine to release me from the despair of losing you, nor from the fear for the safety and health of your precious sister Sarah. No one warns you early in life that the price of unending love is often agony. I have yet to learn how to build a life around my mutilated heart. I need your light to show me the way.