Alive and,...well, not really

How do you tell a three year old and a one year old that the new baby is sick? So sick she might die? So sick that her heart and lungs don't work right?

How do you tell these two sweet children that their mommy and daddy have to go to the hospital, but they can't...
everyday? 

How do you explain open heart surgery?

How do you explain that their little sister can't breathe, eat, survive on her own, so that's why she has tubes, beeps, and wires?

How do you explain that she is dead? That she didn't make it? 

How do you explain the tears and sorrow, the cold gray body that used to be Emily?

How do you help children with their grief?

(Rachel, 18 mo; Joshua, 3.5 yrs old)

Ever since Emily left, Joshua has had tummy aches. Six months after Emily died, Rachel was diagnosed with Celiac Disease. 

I know my kids grieved. I know Joshua still misses Emily. 

Rachel is quiet, almost silent about Emily. Once in awhile she will ask a question, or talk about her in a time of play.

Madelynn is a little more care-free about having a sister in heaven. But I know it will sink in soon.

~

It's been four years since Emily passed on. On into paradise. 

I've finally gotten out Emily's memorabilia. 
It was so hard, I immediately teared up the moment I lifted the lid off the box and saw her stuff inside. It's amazing how everything can wash back over me in a split second. 
All the feelings, and thoughts, and memories, and fears, and people, and...everything.

But God.

He was there. Within me, holding my hand,

helping me take each item and lay it out upon the piano,

In the living room.

For everyone to see.

For Joel to see.

For the kids.

To see.

Finally.

That Emily existed.
Not just in conversation or memory, 

but she really did exist

and she is real.

Joshua and Rachel became moths to light,

helping me set things out,

Rachel asking questions,

questions I've never heard her ask before.

Joshua getting real quiet,

but very sweet and gentle,

remembering.
With me.

Grieving.

Accepting.

Healing.

Emily is no longer hidden within my heart, causing pain. 

Now I am sharing her, her life, with those around me.

It's still painful, but now,

those around me

can heal.