Reading this post from two years ago, it’s eerie how my former self seemed to predict that things may be different after we survived so much tragedy. One year after this post originally published, we had our rainbow Evelyn. While she was far to young to even take in Halloween last year, we enjoyed two Halloween events with her this year. With suffering such lows, the joy and wonder she brings to our days is so profound. We did more than collect candy and dress Evelyn in a costume. We enjoyed each other. We enjoyed the beautiful mild night air. We allowed our hearts to swell with pride in our ever-curious child as we showed her another small corner of the world. Despite having this joy in our lives now, the memories and subsequent raw emotion of all those holidays after losing Sophia has not left my soul. Posts like this keeps me grounded. They allow me to relive very real events. They remind me of where we were, how far we’ve come, and the blessings we have in our lives. Even though I would give anything to have Sophia with us, dressing up in fun costumes with her sister Evelyn, Sophia’s presence is always around. Going back to posts like this and allowing myself a moment to feel the sadness and the grief from an every-growing distance makes me whole. I am a product of my past as much as my present. The past makes the present come alive. Sophia showed us how to really appreciate life.
Standing on the stony front step, my rubbery-soled slippers scraped the chilled cement beneath me. Holding the screen door ajar, the candy bowl leaned gently against my desperate-to-burgeon belly. The narrow blue and white cotton stripes across my torso hugged the promise of life inside. The unusually balmy late October Wisconsin day was confirmation from the Universe that our world would be enriched with our anticipated new arrival.
“Trick or Treat!” the plume of children lining our front walk induced in me a brimming smile as toothy as our jack-o-lantern, spying through the slots of the front window. One-by-one, a princess, a ghost, a barely walking chicken, a ninja, two clowns, a Luigi, followed up by an adult-sized horse, collected their treats.
“Love your costumes!” my genuine compliments are met with giggles, thanks-yous, and one “can I have a different candy?” inquiry. Ignoring the brash child, my gaze followed each miniature costumed…
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Laura Gaddis 