Circumstances are such that the home we lived in for the first two and a half years of our marriage is currently vacant. The other night I did a walk-through of the house which Sarah & I put an enormous amount of our sweat and heart into. The darkness which had descended upon the day contributed to the feeling of emptiness I felt as I walked from room to room in the house which contains so many emotions for Sarah and me.
Four years ago we left that home en route to the hospital expecting to welcome our first child into our lives.
As I walked through the rooms of our previous home, I was overcome with the same feelings I felt upon returning from the hospital almost four years ago. The house was dark, the outside air temperature was comfortable, but yet a chill filled the air – the kind of chill which does not go away by pulling a sweatshirt over one’s head. Bare walls and dusty window sills. Abigail’s nursery - empty again. Peering out the window into the darkness I am reminded of the overcast day when we were told our beautiful Abigail had no heart beat and had died before she could take a breath in this world.
Our current home is filled with beautiful sounds - Allie, Anna and Emily provide joy and laughter which I never dreamed possible. Just like our old house, though, my heart will never be filled to capacity. Abigail is not here with us and my heart will forever have an empty spot.
Tomorrow is June 4, 2010. It should be a day to celebrate Abigail’s birthday. There will be no celebration. We, instead will spend our day giving each of our daughters what they get and deserve everyday – our complete attention and more importantly, our love.
Abigail Ruth – June 4, 2006 – Taken from Our Arms but not Our Hearts.