Hey Eloise,
It’s dad. When I came up with this idea to write you letters after you left us, I’d hoped I’d be able to do it more often than this. I hope I get to sit down more often and write to you, update you on how mom and I are doing, how much your sister Viv is growing up and how we’re all trying to live the best we can without you here with us.
Truth is, I’m struggling. A lot. Work has eaten up so much of my time that I haven’t had a chance to sit down and write to you, or write at all (my other blog, you know, my NASCAR one, hasn’t been touched in over a year). All that time I’ve spent at work isn’t to bury myself in something to forget all the bad things I’ve endured this year. It’s just so hard to keep my head above water there and find time to come home and make sense of everything that has happened away from work too. It’s so hard to make time to spend with mom and Viv away from work, but I know I’m trying so hard to make sure I give them all the energy I have when I walk in the door.
I’m sitting in your room typing this out. It’s the one spot in the house that sometimes I don’t mind stopping in. We still have your blanket in here from the hospital. We have all the things they gave us when we left you in the room. It hurts sometimes to think about that day, but we want you to know the only thing we felt in that room was so much love. We felt love for you, for each other and despite there being an overwhelming feeling of sadness, we know that you felt that love too.
I want you to know that I carry your Mass card with me wherever I go. I have one at my desk, in my car and in my wallet. I’m constantly reminded that I’m your dad. Some days it’s harder than others for sure to get through, but most days I’m able to feel some semblance of peace. I know I haven’t been by to see you in the cemetery recently, and that’s been weighing heavily on my shoulders too recently. I don’t mind stopping by and saying hello and walking to your spot. I hope to come see you soon, because goodness knows I need to swing by and say hello.
The day you born I kept saying I felt broken. Truth is, I still feel that way sometimes. But I talked with some friends, including some who have little ones up with you, and they told me it’s totally normal to feel the way I feel. I want you to know that mom and I will be ok in time, even if we’re struggling with not being able to hold you or see you ever again. Tonight, before bed, I read Viv a book. It was called “The Invisible String.” She may not know it right now, but we’re all connected with that invisible string. Any time you want to tug on it to let us know you’re thinking about us, tug with all you have little one. I know you’re probably enjoying time with all our relatives in heaven, but don’t forget about all of us down here.
We’ll never forget about you Eloise.
Talk to you soon. I love you Golden Girl.
-Dad
Remembering Eloise Estelle 