A note to my daughters.
Today you lost a friend.
A brave little girl who fought a battle beyond her years. Who had her 9th birthday party early, who never made it to 9.
As I tuck you into bed, as I kiss your forehead, I think of your friend who has just lost her little sister. Your friend, who at 12 years old, now has to face life without her best friend, her snuggle bunny.
Your friend who has to bury her little sister in the next few days.
I think about when the funeral is over, and everyone has gone home. I think about your friend, and that she will have to get up in the morning. That she will sit down for breakfast, at the family table, with an empty chair. That she is going to have to go to school. And come home. Alone. And that for everybody else, life will go on. But for her, life as she knows it has just stopped. Life will never be the same again.
Miss T, I ask you to be there for your friend. Your friend that you may find sitting on the floor of the library, head in hands, crying. I ask you not to expect her to move on. Just sit. Listen. Be there.
Miss T, I ask you to never wish your sister wasn’t born. I ask that you never hate her or wish her away. I ask you to love her and cherish her.
And Miss T, my daughter. I love you. I am so proud of you for being who you are. For being a leader, and a competitor. For being so stubborn and argumentative – for being so strong. The world needs you to stay strong.
My baby girl. Today your teacher told you your classmate had passed away. Your classmate who fought for so long. Who never should have had to.
Miss M., I ask you to live. That you make it to 9. And to 10. And 11. And 13. And 21. And 76. I ask that you grow old. And that you remember Her. You remember her battle. That you remember how precious life is. And how she didn’t make it to 9.
Miss M. My baby. Please stay sweet. Please keep giving me Mummy cuddles for the rest of my life. Please don’t let the world pierce your bubble of innocence and sweetness. Please stay caring. The world needs you to care.
I have no right to be upset, I haven’t lost a child. I have two beautiful, strong and healthy daughters. This is everything Her parents wanted but couldn’t have.
I have a gift, a precious gift of two beautiful girls. And a duty – to my girls, and to Her parents. To hold my children in my arms, to love them.
To linger a little longer as I kiss them goodnight.