Marvelous, Magnificent Maddie

I never got to hug Maddie.

I never got to ruffle her sweet curls, give her a high five, kiss the scars that helped give her the short life that she did have.

Mike and Heather lost those things. They lost Maddie a year ago today, and lost all those ways to love her in person, too. The magnitude of that loss must make it incalculably hard to believe that she could really be gone, be not coming back.

Although my "loss" - simply losing the chance to ever meet her - is nothing compared to theirs, I wonder whether my level of disbelief, while infinitely less sharp and painful, could match theirs. You see, in the only way I ever "had" her, I still do.

I got to see her, in hundreds of pictures that her parents took. I saved off a couple dozen of them to my own computer, so that every time I open "My Pictures", I see her.

I got to hear her, on video, every Friday. I heard her laugh and sing. I heard her squeal in excitement. I still can.

It is so hard to look at the vivacious girl in those pictures and videos, and not think she's still over in California, jamming and making Mike and Heather laugh. It literally brings tears to my eyes when I remind myself that what I had - have - is all I'll ever get of her. But then I see it the other way: I still have her over here, in those ways, and in my heart and mind, and not only am I lucky to have that, I'm glad to be able to share Maddie with my kids and my friends for as long as there is someone to see.

(I don't own this photo; I uploaded it directly to save on hits to the originals, but this and many other awesome shots can be found at www.thespohrsaremultiplying.com or www.flickr.com/plasticcandy/)

Happy Birthday, Maddie

Today, I wanted to say something profound and inspiring. Originally, that meant it was going to be tearjerking. Serious.

But I couldn't. The words wouldn't come. Everything I thought of was cheesy, and didn't really capture the pangs I get, the way my stomach clutches when it hits me again that Heather and Mike have to live today - every day - without Maddie.

And there is enough of that desperate sadness to fill the world. I realized that I would rather celebrate, today.

Today is the anniversary of the day that the world started knowing and enjoying Maddie - definitely worth celebrating.

Things got off to a slow start. We DO miss her, after all.

But then I started thinking about Maddie's beautiful smile and how she used to say "Waow!" and how every time I introduce people to her, they end up smiling.

From there, it actually got a little crazy.

And when the kids found out we were going to run to the store for cream puffs, well...

J wasn't quite sure about borrowing one of his sister's shirts, but I talked him into it. For Maddie.

 Happy Second Birthday, Maddie.

Maddie

So, that last post was not an April Fool's joke. I really did intend to come back and write some Deep Stuff about what girls are looking for in a story, but by the time I was ready to work on it, I got the news about Maddie. And then I just couldn't think about anything else.

The following pictures are supposed to be posted later, to sync with Maddie's funeral this afternoon, but I'm not sure if I'll have internet access. I also feel like there's nothing I can add that hasn't already been said, and generally said in such ways that I could never hope to improve upon them. I'm not sure I even have anything of value to add.

The only thing I have to add is the ache in my heart. Being still unemployed (and having unexpected car expenses twice in a week), we don't have two pennies to donate towards the marchers. We signed up for the March of Dimes walk in Dallas, but haven't been able to find a single sponsor, and the march is THIS SATURDAY. I don't know if they'll even let us walk. I guess if it comes down to it, we'll walk around our neighborhood.
I'm really feeling a bit too useless to even continue this post, but I just had to post SOMETHING, even if it was just this depressing, non-inspirational drivel in purple font.
Ultimately:
Heather, and by extension, Mike, I consider you my friend(s). My heart wrenches whenever I am reminded of Maddie or of your adventures with her and whenever I try to consider what kind of gut-twisting horror you're living with. I have, more than once, pondered it to the point of literally, physically gagging. She has been living here, in us, as well as in you, since you began sharing her with us through your posts. Here she remains.