Call me Crazy

Would you call me crazy if I told you the truth?

Would you think I am weird for the tiny rituals I do to remember my lost little girl?

If you knew I wondered if every butterfly I saw was my daughter,

If you saw me cuddling the stuffed elephant I bought her 4 days before she died, that sleeps beside my bed so if  I wake up and want to hold it I can.

Do you wonder why I have so many stone Angels’ in and around my house?

Would you call me crazy if I told you I wake up in a frantic panic at times confusingly wondering where my baby is?

Would you think I am weird for gently touching the dried blood stains that I cannot wash off her blanket and hat?

If you knew I prayed for people to ask about her would you?

If you saw me talking, kissing, holding her picture, would you call me crazy?

Some might but I am ok with being a little crazy.

I am crazy for my living children, for my husband, why can’t I be crazy for my little girl whose life was so short but has touched me so hugely.

Call me crazy.

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Away on a family trip, a beautiful butterfly just like this one, landed on my 2 year old daughter Hope, who we had after Lily died. She freaked out a little because the butterfly didn’t seem to want to leave her shoulder, all I kept thinking was – It’s ok Hope its your sister.

Thanks for reading,

Namaste.

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