Doing Good In Her Name

Because I desperately need

 some good to come out of this loss...

Please check out the site that has been set up to honor Peyton's memory by helping others. I won't be writing on that site the way I do here, this is my outlet, and the content that  gets posted here really wouldn't be appropriate for that site, but it will be updated from time to time, so feel free to follow over there as well. I really need something good to come out of all this. I feel such a strong desire to honor her, to have her name be synonymous with something other than the sadness and the grief.  This idea, well,  I like to think of it is her way of asking us to help out the little friends she has here... the ones who are still fighting the good fight.

www.doinggoodinhername.com

Wings

I search for beauty among these terrible things

today I find it picturing my child in her angel wings

imagining her sweet giggle as she flies above

watching over us, spreading her love

Though my faith has been tested by her death

sometimes it helps me to catch my next breath

imagining her dancing around pain free up there

among the rainbows, the clouds, the sun, the air

I hope she knows we feel each sweet gesture

and believe they are blessings sent down by her

helping us survive even the most terrible day

by sending others to hold our hand along the way

So fitting that this image be

and one bringing such happy solace to me

for on the very day she was deceased

we Catholics mark The Guardian Angels Feast

So fly sweet little girl of mine

and down from Heaven let your spirit shine

through happy moments that help us find our smile

and the kindness of others along this grieving mile

~Kristin Binder

A huge Thank You to Lea at the Angel Wings Memorial Boutique

for surprising me with these beautiful wings

created out of love in Peyton's honor.

Messages & Signs Mel's 66th Show & Tell

Since Peyton's passing there have been a few little, we will call them "incidents", where I thought that she was sending me some sort of a sign; a gust of wind during a visit to her grave after posing a very important question; walking into my bedroom to find a flashlight flashing across her picture; a light in our dining room hutch (an area of the house that has been ignored) being switched on and illuminating her box of things from the hospital - her handprints, a lock of her hair, etc. I have never really believed in 'ghost stories' per say, but you pepper in a few of these incidences after losing someone so close, and you begin to wonder. I imagine that by the end of this post you might wonder too.

This past week has been hard for me (and, yes, I do know how much of a broken record that makes me sound like) but it has. I have felt panicked and anxious about all of the dates of importance that seem to be running together. This Sunday was the date that she was originally due to arrive, so it is a date that I will always associate with her. September 4th is her birthday (I went two weeks overdue in the end of the summer. This was a fact that I had planned on reminding her of many many times during her life.) And then, of course, there is October 2nd, the day that we conceded to the Cancer and said our goodbyes. I'm very bitter towards Cancer now, and especially the way that when you lose your child to it, every conceivable Cancer organization bombards your mailbox with solicitations. Don't get me wrong, of course I want there to be a cure for Peyton's Cancer, and I give to just about everyone that asks, but it's still hard to have it in your face when you are grieving. I can only liken it to having someone mail you the mug shot of your child's killer. So like I said, I am bitter towards Cancer, but in an effort to avoid going completely off topic, as I do from time to time, I will save my feelings on that for another post.

Now, back to my showing and telling. When I am really low, really really low, my friend Chrissi is the one that usually gets the call. I tend to isolate myself alot these days, not wanting to burden anyone with my grief, so to be pushed to the point of dialing means its a really shitty day. I couldn't call Chrissi last week, she was on vacation in Rhode Island, and I missed her. As soon as she returned, she called me to see how my week had gone, and to tell me that she "had to tell me the cutest story ever!"

What follows here is the story she shared with me, the arc to this post, and I promise, the area where I will do the actual showing.

Chrissi said that she had gone to the beach every day, always hanging out in the same area. She told me that they had chosen that particular area of the beach because there was never anyone walking through and disturbing them, and they were left pretty much to enjoy the beach on their own. On one of the last days of her vacation, they set up in their usual spot, and started to enjoy their day by the ocean. Laying on her back, looking up at the sky, she heard her friend Megan saying "Oh my God Chrissi look!" "What?" Chrissi asked, tilting her head back. She saw a little leather bracelet sitting perched atop the sand and sort of brushed it off with a "yeah, it's a bracelet, so what?" "Look at what it says Chrissi," Megan said pointing, and in realizing what the bracelet said, Chrissi burst into tears. This photo below is of the bracelet that Chrissi found perched right behind her.

And here is where Chrissi tried to recreate the photo that we took here.

So this brings me back to my belief that sometimes Peyton sends funny little signs and messages when she feels they are really needed. This one has me even more convinced (as crazy as that makes me sound) because I can honestly say that I have never in my life randomly come across anything that said Peyton on it. If her name was more common, maybe I would chock it up to coincidence, but it's not, so I will just go on believing that this was Peyton sending a message that she knew her Mommy & Daddy needed to get through the hurt that these dates of her birthday and angelversary bring... a message of peace.

To see what others are sharing today go here.

A Family, A Mountain, A Moment

This weekend, my husband and I spent a lot of time together, just the two of us, hiking and talking. We visited People's State Forest in Barkhamsted on the Fourth of July, travelling along the Jesse Gerard Trail. We talked about life, about our surroundings, and of course, about our sweet little Peyton. Having nearly reached the top of the mountain, a butterfly, small and white, floated between the two of us, lingering for awhile. I always associate butterflies with Peyton now. We had decorated her steel crib in the hospital with butterflies in a desperate effort to make it feel less cold and clinical; and it has been during some of my lowest moments at Peyton's grave, that these beautiful little creatures have appeared and brought comfort. "Look, it's Peyton." I said to Dru, and we followed as she floated and fluttered before us, up a path and to a beautiful lookout.

The view from atop this rock overlooked the Farmington River, with it's kayakers in brightly colored vessels dancing along the river's bends down below. I wondered how many miles away could be seen from here, and marvelled over the sense of calm that the area below us held from this vantage point. It's amazing how disconnected I have been feeling from that calm these last several months. It was because of the peace in this area that we had decided to settle here, to start our life, to raise a family. My heart welcomed the peace this day. "I can't imagine anything more beautiful than this place?" I said. The view was literally taking my breath away.

I told Dru I felt like Peyton was there with us, that she had offered us this moment, this reprieve to sit among beauty, among each other and be at peace. We thought of her, talked about how we wished she was taking this adventure with us, strapped to our back in a carrier. For a moment, up on that overlook, I imagined how wonderful that would have been. We were not, of course, the first people to discover this lookout, and the remnants of a campfire laid charred in the rock where we stood. I reached into the fire and pulled out a large piece of charcoal, handing it to Dru. "Write her name," I said, "I want a record of her here." We walked the rock finally choosing an area that faced what we thought to be the most beautiful view, and Dru went to work.

As we stood back to admire his handywork, the sun came shining upon us with all of its brightness, allowing us to cast our shadows and love down over her name.

We sat there with her for awhile, breathing her in, before readying ourselves to head back to the trail towards home, looking over our shoulders once more at the name of our lost child on that rock, among so much beauty.

I know in my heart that Peyton had brought us there, to share that place, that moment. I could feel her love and presence all around us. I knew that we had shared this experience, all three of us, as a family.