Sunsets to Make It Better

This past week, I've been trying to figure out what it means to "move on." A friend of mine, who lost her baby about the same time we lost ours, shared that because life has been busy for her, she feels like she is moving on. Tears swelled in her eyes, and I knew what she meant. I knew the guilt she felt. She didn't want to move on. She didn't want to forget. I'm afraid that if life gets back to normal, I'll start to forget. When I go more than a day or two without tearing up, I wonder what's wrong with me. When I get so busy that I don't think about Eden, I think I'm a terrible mother. What kind of mother doesn't think about her baby that she just lost two weeks ago?

But maybe moving on doesn't have to be such a negative thing. Maybe moving on doesn't mean forgetting. Maybe it simply means learning to function again. Learning to take the pain and use it to help someone else. Learning to treasure every single day we have with those who are still here.

I know I'll never forget Eden. And I know she doesn't want me to cry every day. I think that if she were here, she'd do what Rylan does when he sees me cry. She'd come get on my lap and say, "Mommy crying" and then give me a hug. Rylan hates to see his mommy cry and wants nothing more than to make it "all better." So would Eden. I think that's why Eden and God have been coloring together.

The other day, when I was driving into town, I saw the most beautiful sunset. I'm convinced that Eden helped God make it. I might not get to add her pictures to a scrapbook like I've done for Rylan, but at least I get to see some of her handiwork. Every time I see a sunset, I'll think to myself, "That's Eden's picture. She drew that for Mommy to make it all better." Thanks, Eden. I love the picture.