Rebecca

On this day in 2008, my first niece, Rebecca Lynn, was born.

Eighty days later, before I could hold her hand, she was gone.

It should be noted that her passing was not a surprise. In fact, the real surprise was that she had made it home from the hospital, much less through her first day. She was born with severe abnormalities due to a chromosomal anomaly that made life impossible for her frail body. Her death was a thing of mercy. Nevertheless, it was beyond painful for those of us who loved her.

This is where I point out that the same chromosomal anomaly that made life impossible for my darling Rebecca is the chromosomal anomaly that makes my beloved C the special angel that she is. Yes, the two girls, born just over a month apart, (the two girls I had imagined would grow up together, thick as thieves, favorite cousins), had the same unbalanced translocation. On paper, they look identical. And yet, my daughter lived, and my brother's daughter did not.

When Rebecca passed, C had not yet been diagnosed with any medical conditions. We hadn't even begun to suspect them yet. We certainly didn't know about her chromosomes, as the geneticists had all been crystal clear when they said there was ZERO CHANCE I could be a carrier for the anomaly that affected my brother's children. I remember at her funeral, all I could do was hold her hand and stare into her beautiful little face. A face that shouldn't have been beautiful because of the cleft lip and flattened nose, but that was somehow the most angelic face I had ever seen. I ached for not having been able to fly out to Texas to hold her before she passed. I wept for the loss of the best friend my daughter was never going to know. I hurt for my brother because I had my daughter in my arms, and he had his daughter in a casket.

Earlier today, I was planning what I was going to blog about tonight. My childhood alter-ego, the first time a stranger recognized C's disabilities (Wednesday), my long day of class... And then, on my way home from a night out with friends, I checked my email and saw the birthday email my mom sends out for every member of our very large extended family. A birthday note in remembrance of Rebecca. My Rebecca. My brother's Rebecca. The Rebecca who forever changed my life without breathing a single breath in my presence.

My heart still breaks.

A Time to Mourn

Yesterday afternoon, a friend's father passed away. He had been in the hospital, but all reports had been good, so I was shocked to hear of his death. This afternoon, my husband learned that a very old friend of his passed away Monday night. Still young, she died in her mother's arms. I urged him to take comfort that she died somewhere safe and happy. I mean, I can't think of a better place to go than in the arms of someone who loves me.

Last year, a very dear friend of mine passed away just a few days before Christmas. He was a high school friend's father, my youth minister, and he was in my wedding ceremony. When he passed, it absolutely crushed me, and I remember being furious at God for taking away such a wonderful man just before Christmas and leaving his (grown) daughters with no one.

Losing a loved one is certainly never easy; no one has ever claimed it was, to my knowledge... But somehow, that loss seems profoundly deeper during the holidays. At a time when we are urged to celebrate family and togetherness, to express our love for one another, and to flock to our homes, it's devastating for a key figure in that image of Christmas Past to be missing.

My heart goes out to the two families whom I know have lost members this week, and to anyone who may be reading who is grieving the loss of a loved one. We all experience loss in our lives, and there's just no way to make it easier or to make it painless. This time of year, it's really thrown in your face if you've just lost a family member... There just are no words to make it right.

I wish we could have a guarantee that, during the month of December, no one would die. No one would suffer, accidents wouldn't happen, the ill would feel a temporary respite, and everyone could celebrate and love one another without fear of tragedy. I, for one, will be holding my husband and daughter extra close this season, telling my parents and brothers that I love them, and treasuring my Christmas celebrations with both sides of my extended family. I'll embrace being back home for the holidays. I'll be grateful that all my loved ones are near, if only for one night, and I'll put aside complaining about how life isn't quite what I had planned. Life is too short to be unhappy, and you never know when tragedy will strike. I'm going to make sure that Christmas is full of joy and love.