“Dear Nymeria,
I see you in everything, everywhere I go, everything I do – your face is there, little reminders everywhere.
I don’t think a minute goes by that you’re not on my mind. I don’t know how to accept that the most perfect little girl, the happiest girl I have ever known, is just gone. I want you here so badly, but I’m trying. Nymeria, I just miss you so incredibly much.
Until I see you again, I will continue to live my life in hopes that you are looking down, smiling. And until then, I will write to you.
One day closer,
Love, your mom”
The emptiness in our house and in my calendar is a reminder that my daughter is gone; yet I can still feel her presence here. Since her passing, I have been writing letters to her to fill the ache in my heart and the void in our house.
“Sweet Nymeria, I am writing you into our life. I’m writing letters to heaven.”
During the day and sometimes in the middle of the night, I write to Nymeria in various ways – using the notes app on my phone, a pen and my journal, or typing up and printing out my thoughts. The most cathartic aspect is being able to express my feelings without fear of judgment. My letters to Nymeria are raw and honest, detailing my emotions and experiences. Leading up to her burial, I put pen to paper and wrote.
“I picked out your first outfit; I shouldn’t pick out your last. Today I delivered your dress, shoes, hair pin and nail polish to the funeral home. You’re going to look so beautiful. You always do. I know you’re going to love what I picked out for you. You get to wear heels – your very first pair. I wish you could have danced here on earth. I hope you are dancing with the angels.”
Only in the privacy of writing to her could I find my way through the difficulty of saying goodbye. The whole family is finding ways to say goodbye. It’s challenging grieving while also parenting Nymeria’s surviving siblings. I have found writing helpful in this way too. I have penned letters from the perspective of others – Nymeria’s father, brother, and sister – honoring their reactions and emotions. Sometimes I share these letters with them, other times I do not.
Writing letters has allowed me to feel connected with Nymeria, sometimes more connected than I felt in the final weeks of her life. In the days leading up to her death, I struggled to be mentally present due to my overwhelming anticipatory grief. As her oxygen levels fluctuated dangerously low, I was caught up in worries – Is this the end? How will I let her go? Eventually, I found the strength to tell her that I would be okay (although it did not feel possible I would ever be okay again). It was then that I made a promise to Nymeria – I will meet you in heaven.
I have come to realize that in heaven time must function differently, not chronologically. Nymeria is in heaven now; but she is not alone, searching for me. Instead, when she looks for me, she will find me, because someday I will join her. I end each of my letters the same way – “One day closer, my love.” Please do not misinterpret this. While I am heartbroken, I am still committed to living my life and loving her siblings here on this earthly plane. So for now, the best I can do to stay connected to Nymeria is write letters to heaven, because that is her new address.