Angel Grandma

        A few nights ago Abby fell asleep, stark naked, on her change table as I massaged her after her bath. She slept through me diapering her, and clothing her in her pyjamas. In fact, she didn't wake up enough to have her bottle until I sat in the rocking chair and sang her "Itsy Bitsy Spider."  

    

       That was the song my mom sang to her.  She sang it to her in her favourite brown leather recliner on Christmas Eve, over Skype from my childhood breakfast table and from her hospital bed three days before she passed as Abby bounced along in her carrier. I sing it to Abby everynight now. Her eyes sparkle and a smile curls across her lips, bottle still emptying rapidly, and I can feel her whole body react. As the close of the song comes I feel all of her muscles relax. The sparkle fades to a more subdued lustre and she rubs her eyes. Her eyelids grow heavy and I whisper that I love her, that her Angel Grandma loves her. She knows that my heart is hurting, and she knows how to mend it; the beautiful girl I hold in my arms every night helps me inhale again everytime my heart breaks. 

      During the viewing for my mother I was able to reconnect and talk with many people whom my family has known over the years. People from every sports team my siblings or parents played or coached for, old friends from grade school and high school, staff from schools my mom worked at and teachers I'd had over the years to name a few. Many of them told me wonderful stories, said words of encouragement and took the time to ask how I was doing. One of those stories keeps coming back to me. A teacher I'd known in high school (who had also been a student teacher in my eighth grade class and helped with the musical I was in) spent many minutes talking to me about life that day.  She told me about how she had lost her own father at around the same age as my mom had been when she passed, but how she kept his memory alive for her own children. 

" They know they have an angel grandpa up in heaven." 

       
        It is so important to me that my children know my mother. That they know who she was and how big her heart was, though it failed her in the end. Abigail has quite a few angels up there already. Now she has an Angel Grandma. She has my mom. I am so thankful that Shawna shared that story with me. I am so thankful for the peace it has been bringing me ever since. 

       

       This last photograph captures just a small portion of the wonderful handmade and thoughtfully purchased gifts Abby has received over her last 8 months (and prior to her arrival!). I just feel the need to start thanking you all for what you've made possible for our home and lives.
       
       The floral wreath (watercolour and ink) was done by an incredible friend of mine name Stephanie Sears. She is the cat's pyjamas and is wonderfully talented! She is also a wicked teacher and awesome friend. Love you and miss you, Steph! That blanket draped over the glider was a gift from my lovely friend Ally's mom. She made an adorable hat to match it...and though the periwinkle often had people confused about whether Abby was a boy or girl, we loved it. It is so soft, and wonderfully cozy. Of course there's little Kinley Wall in there from her parents Jen and Steve, a memory box from Mark's godparents, a AA Milne quotation I drew myself and a piggy bank from her Uncle Matt. That is the bottle she woke up to finish, in case you were wondering. 
       We are reminded daily of how loved we are, Abby especially. Thank you to our friends and family, for everything, ever. You are all the best- absolutely tied for first place!