Love Letters

The following letters are part of our 
Love Letters series.

You can learn more here. 

If you didn't get the chance to submit a letter this year, please feel free to leave your love letter in the comments. 

We wish all loss families a gentle Valentine's Day, as we miss our little loves. 

~ ~ ~

To Elliot Kathryn Davis, from Ellie Davis

Dear Elliot, 

It's been over 10 months since we said hello and goodbye in just a few hours. 

We were so broken that you couldn't stay with us, so many dreams and plans unfulfilled. 

But we know now that you haven't left us for good. We see you in the pink sunrise, in the cardinals that shine in the snow-covered trees, and the many good words our family has done to honor you. 

You will always be part of our family, sweet love, and we look forward to meeting you again in eternity.

Your loving Nana & Papa

~ ~ ~

To Maeve, from Jess McCormack

Dear Maeve,

It's dawn, the sun beginning to rise, although hidden behind the grey clouds that are dominating this winter. I am woken abruptly from a hazy dream by your little sister calling from the room next door. I grumble a little, it seems so early and I was quite content lost in my dream. But I am happy too, to hear her sweet voice and to know that some lovely little cuddles await. I open my eyes and reach for the lamp beside my bed. And then, like every morning, my eyes go straight to the picture of you on my wall. My Maeve. I whisper your name into the morning light. My love for you rises up from my soul and finds its place in my eyes, my smile. I feel so grateful to know you, to have carried you, to be able to call you mine. But I miss you so much too. Every morning I feel this avalanche of feelings, of love, of desperate sadness, of a longing like no other, for both the baby you were and the almost-3-year-old you could have become.

Your sister's calls become louder: "mummy, mummy, mummy!". Would you have called for me like that too, Maeve? Sometimes I hear you, even though I know it can't be true.

I crawl out from under the covers, my feet searching for my slippers, my eyes still on your picture, still breathing in your peaceful face, marvelling again that something so beautiful could have come from me. On the most difficult days, I ask you for help. It seems so backwards and all mixed up, almost unfair of me to ask my baby girl for help. It should be the other way around, me helping you to tie your shoes, to brush your hair, or reach the crayons from the top shelf. It should be me comforting you when you're sad or afraid. But instead it is you who gives me the courage to keep going. I have a mountain to climb without you. I have a mountain to climb because you're no longer here. There are days when I don't know if I can take a single step and others when the path seems more gentle. But every day I feel you with me, my love for you lighting my way, lifting me when I fall and carrying me when I can no longer walk alone. Thank you, baby girl, for being my strength, my courage. Thank you for being the first thing I see each morning, for reminding me what's important and what really matters: love. I love you Maevey, for always <3.

~ ~ ~

To Orion, from Jill Sakowski

My dearest Orion, 

I miss you so much.  Two years ago today you taught me the true meaning of love and motherhood.  I felt your body shake with the violence of seizures, I felt your soul slipping away.  You died around 2am on Valentine's Day, and all I could do was rub my belly and tell you over and over how much I loved you.  How my love would find you wherever you were headed, that I didn't want you to suffer, that if you were ready to go I wanted you to let go and move on, to find peace.  I thought the pain of those words might kill me, but it was my job as your mother to ease your pain any way I could. 

I wasn't ready to say good-bye, and I never will be.  

My love for you over the last two years has spanned the universe, seeking your soul wherever it is dancing now.  And I know that you are dancing because I feel it in my heart, like waves of laughter and light reverberating through the stars to reach me here.  We are still connected.  We are still mother and child.  And nothing will ever change that.  Oh my sweet boy, I hope you know how cherished you are!  

With Eternal Love, Mommy

~ ~ ~

To Cassie, from Stacy MacCormack

To my sweet Cassie, 

It's been a year since Daddy and I learned that you wouldn't be with us for very long, only a few fleeting moments on the "outside" world, or maybe not at all. In May, it will be a year since hello and goodbye at the same time.

How I have grown and changed this past year, and all because of you! You have helped me truly appreciate the sacredness and absolute miracle of life in all its forms. Having the opportunity to carry you, Cassie, and honour you has shown me the true meaning of motherhood, which is to love, nurture, and protect to the best of one's ability. I wanted to give you that because it was all I could give and I wanted you to know only love and protection for your entire life. Carry you until God decided it was time was both the easiest and the hardest thin I have ever done. You are the strongest girl I know, and Mummy, Daddy, and big brother E miss you and love you so very much!

Love, Mum

~ ~ ~

To Marissa Rachael Poznanski, from Elizabeth Poznanski

Marissa, my love, I thought we had a lifetime to make memories. You were gone too soon. My heart feels shattered; jagged with torment from your loss.  My mind still struggles to grasp the reality of it all, and yet, I live it every day and it's all too real. The house reverberates silence without you. Lump in my throat. Tears welling in my eyes. Endless tears, but that's alright because my love for you is endless.

I'm sorry for all that you didn't get to do. Your Make-A-Wish was too late...you were gone too soon.  I'm so sorry.  You should have had more time. It wasn't supposed to turn out this way. You should have had less pain, more joy. It's not fair.  Life can be incredibly unfair. Marissa, you had the name of your future bakery chosen:  Peace of Cake. You had the name of your future daughters chosen: Isabella Rose and Anneliese Marie. You would have been a fantastic mommy. There will be no children, no wedding where your daddy could walk you down the aisle, no college, and on and on. There was a tearful "honorary" high school graduation during which your big brother courageously walked up to the stage to accept your "honorary" diploma.

The brief respite we had from the hospital is a time I will always treasure. The Ronald McDonald House was our home then. I called you "Sweet Pea" a lot during those days and you corrected me by saying, "Salty Carrot."  You were, after all, a self-proclaimed "Savory Girl" since you much preferred foods such as cheese and other salty things over sweets. The month of May this year will mark four years since you left. My heart senses peace and comfort when I think of you opening your eyes, Heaven-side, free from pain and suffering. Although I am grateful for the peace and comfort, it is such a modicum of relief compared to the searing ache that resides in my soul. My darling firecracker. My beautiful, brave Marissa. Oh, how I love and miss you to Heaven and back. Salty Carrot, you are forever in my heart. <3

In loving memory of Marissa Rachael Poznanski, 1996-2012

~ ~ ~

To Barri, from Heather Bassham

Dearest Barri, 

What to express to someone who just learned to hear sound? As sound blesses our ears, it points us to the One whose sounds carry our dearest prayers across time and space, Whose words are never destroyed. This Source of life gives me courage to write and to live. I don't know or understand the why of it all, yet  I know that miss you, the innocence you were, and, most of all, what you could have been. 

As I blew bubbles over the rose on the plot of ground in which you rest, I  thought of the thousand hopes and dreams that I had for you.  A thousand bubbles as fragile and lite as the baby I carried for 12 weeks. I  hoped to see you at the end of summer,  yet I saw you at the beginning of spring, with small , tight buds soon to smile upon us all and geese flying the heavens. You were not to be our child, but our angel, our brightling encouraging us  to do better, be better. The returning warmth of spring leaves an absent scar, but one that we may behold in joy. Daddy, Spencer, and I  were glad to know you. 

Your life brought joy and laughter the world; my blithe pregnancy colored my world with hues that I had never imagined. You were born in February,  on a moonless night lit by glowing stars.  In the grey garden of my heart there will always be a perfect pink rose radiating the perfect light of my own little star.

Love always,

Mommy