When my sweet Bug died on November 16, 2016, at 14-months-old, my husband and I lost our child. Elbow lost her twin sister. My parents lost their granddaughter. My sister lost her niece. And on and on and on and on. For those of us who loved her, knew her, cherished her, the impact and reality of her death gets more real and painful each day. This will never stop because a day will never pass that we don’t feel her absence and wish for her presence. My heart will ache forever. I ache for myself. My baby is gone. But I also ache for her, for my little Bug.
My daughter lost her life. She lost everything; everything she would have experienced, everything she would have become, everything she would have accomplished, all things she would have felt, thought, dreamed, tried, or said. She will never know what it feels like to walk on her own. She will never know what is feels like to swim, to sing, to dig holes, to go down the slide, to climb a tree. She will never have her first day of school. She will never learn to read. She will never find a passion. She will never grow up.
The loss we feel is not only ours. It is her’s as well. She lost everything. EVERYTHING. We lost our daughter and we lost her whole life. Fourteen months is not long enough.
My baby is gone. Her life is over. The magnitude of this loss is incomprehensible. I just want my little girl to come back to me. But she never will.