Pitter Patter of Small Feet in Heaven

I've always been sort of a rebel, and my heart has always been overflowing. And I'm not good at remaining silent, just ask anyone close to me, I say what is on my heart at any time. Speak now and ask for forgiveness later.

So while most of my blogging buddies are choosing to participate in the Blogger's day of silence, I can't.

If you've ever lost anyone close to you, someone who lives in the house with you, someone who you share life with, you know how hard it is to come home to that house and they not be there. Maybe their shoes are still by the door, their food is left uneaten in the fridge, their toothbrush laying where they left it, their dirty clothes still in the hamper and it still smells like them. Their favorite ketchup sits in the refrigerator door, little debbies in the cabinet. Their truck still has their change in the cup holder. A half used tube of chapstick.

I've been there. I know what it's like to lose someone who your entire life is made up of. I know what it's like to come home from the hospital and see things still like they left them, with the hopes of coming home. Their unfinished dreams and their to-do list just waiting on them to come home. Just begging to be finished.

I can't imagine what it's like to be a parent and know that my baby isn't coming home. To know that they were supposed to be doctors, and lawyers, and were supposed to make mistakes, and sneak out at 16. My heart cannot fathom it. I believe in a God that loves children, and know that the pitter patter of little feet in heaven must have sounded like music to him on Friday.

I wish there was something I could do to make things easier. And if I could say anything to someone who is grieving, I would say remember the good times, remember the smiles, remember their laughs, and celebrate their lives. Grieve them. Let your heart hurt. Cry and be mad. Celebrate their birthdays, and always hold them in your heart, because a little piece of them is always, always going to be there. Don't forget them, don't ever forget them. Write down the memories, because they will become foggy. Tell stories about them. Keep things that remind you of them. Never let their light die.

If there is something you wish that you could do, go here, and join this sweet, sweet girl. I plan on sending a truck load of cards and bracelets to them. Anything I can do to help.

If tears could build a stairway, and memories a lane.

I would walk right up to Heaven, and bring you back again.

xoxo,

Brooke