Poetry
We had everything so ready:
the booties,
the blankies,
the bears,
the bottles,
the bibs,
the burpcloths.
Your room was ready two months
before you were even due.
We'd taken classes, watched videos,
read books and magazines,
asked millions of questions
and prayed endless prayers,
just to make sure we were
prepared.
And we were prepared for anything -
except losing you,
daughter.
We weren't prepared for that.
Not even close,
and now, the grief...
It hurts just as much as the day
you died.
It seems different,
but it only takes one moment,
one instant,
for a word, a thought, a picture
to flash through my mind
and I'm gone again,
weeping over you,
my precious daughter.
Sometimes I want it to end;
other times, I hold on to it
as I held on to you,
wrapped tightly and resting
in my arms as if you weren't dead
but merely sleepy.
I miss you,
my daughter,
whom I barely got to know
and only got to hold in death -
a lifeless body in my
lifeless arms -
two hearts that stopped at the exact same
moment.
Father, may Your mercy keep us
and may Your goodness bless us again
soon.
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