I breathe a sigh of relief … today is the last day of September. I love the September weather and the move to Fall. But it is a month full of emotions — good and painful. September 2013 was remarkedly so.
Liz would have turned the big 30 on September 12th. What haunts me the most is that I so long to know what would her life look like at 30? What career would she have? Would she have found someone to share her life with? Would I be a Grandmother?
In my mind, Liz will always be this rebellious 20-year old daughter — whom I love more than my own life — but who was not an easy teenager to deal with. I wish I could forget about that and concentrate on a more positive outlook. It’s easy to assume that everything would be rosy — she would have a fab job, a wonderful partner and maybe a special daughter or son. I sure would like to believe that. But part of me can’t help but wonder if it would have gone the other way. Would she have continued to struggle and make poor life decisions? Would she be in and out of rehab? Would she have “seen the light” and turned things around? The simple truth is that I just don’t know.
But the other truth is, that it really doesn’t matter either way. Because none of it happened — the good or the bad. It is what it is and I choose to make the best of that. I have known every night for the last ten years where she is and I know that she is safe and she is at peace. Therefore, so am I. I no longer have those sleepless nights of wondering about her. I know where she is and we still have a relationship. It’s certainly not what I had hoped for on that day 30 years ago when I first saw that beautiful baby girl with the wild shock of hair and big blue eyes.
But I am at peace about her, and I love her more than ever … and she knows that. That’s all I can ask for at this point, and that’s OK it is enough.
We chose to celebrate the 20 years that Liz was physically with us on September 20th. Our house was filled to the brim with family and Liz’s closest high school friends. It felt so good to have everyone together — much the same as we had been ten years before — but most of the pain and shock of her sudden departure has worn thinner.
We shared memories and laughter over the crazy antics of this amazing, daughter, sister, niece, cousin and friend.
And I know she was there with us in spirit — thankful that we had gathered to laugh, to love and to remember.
Carry on Liz … til we meet again in spirit.
Love always,
Mom
Kim
LOVE LIVES ON 
Oh, this is a beautiful expression, Kim. Thank you for sharing! Hugs to you!
Oh Kim this was just so beautiful. I’ll never forget your first comment to me when I saw you at her funeral. “I will always no where she is now and don’t have to worry anymore” Yep she was so full of life and mischief and she had you and Roger in knots of worry most of the time but that God you can remember her now with peace and love. You were such an awesome mommy to her and I know you wouldn’t change a thing. Peace, love and Gods hugs to you and Roger.
This is an excellent and heartfelt post, Kim. So amazed at how you have carried on and made your peace with this tragedy.
Thanks Cheryl!
All things are possible with God leading the way!
Oh Kimber, I just love your post. I love how you just tell the truth and love in such an accepting, open hearted way. You are a blessing in my life dear cousin- God bless Liz and all she was to so many. In the words of Glennon Melton, “carry on warrior”.
xo
Thank you Kim for sharing this – warm hugs…..Antonia