15 years...

She is Gone - by David Harkins

You can shed tears that she is gone,

Or you can smile because she has lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that she will come back,

Or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see her,

Or you can be full of the love that you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,

Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember her and only that she is gone,

Or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back,

Or you can do what she would want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

"Out of all the gifts You’ve given

Besides the very gift of life

There is none as precious to me

As the treasure of my wife."

How Do I Love Her?

by Steven Curtis Chapman

Dear Sara,

Fifteen years ago today we stood in front of our family, friends, and God…pledging our lives, and love, to each other “until death do us part.” The “until we are old and gray, having lived long and fruitful lives” was implied. Most days it’s still hard to believe that those vows have been fulfilled…or…maybe it’s more that I don’t want to believe that they have been fulfilled. In daily conversation, you are still “my wife, Sara.”

This day has been on my mind for weeks. I’ve been completely unsure of how to approach it. Should I celebrate the fourteen and a half happy years we shared? Could I celebrate, even if I wanted to? Should I go somewhere? Should I be with people or be alone? My answer came to me late in the afternoon yesterday…maybe you sent it to me.

Last October we went up north on a color tour. It was something we had always wanted to do, but working for the public schools made taking time off work during the fall a little difficult. In retrospect, I’m obviously glad we made the time to go. We both enjoyed ourselves. It was a happy trip. We knew it was probably our last vacation with just the two of us.

One of my favorite memories from the trip was sitting out in Grand Traverse Bay, at Mission Point State Park, watching the sun set behind the Leelanau Peninsula. You were cold; I was comfortable. You snuggled in next to me as the sun went down. We had seen Miranda in an ultrasound just a week earlier; it was our first, last, and only sunset as a family. It was a perfect end to a perfect day. We were both so happy, and excited about where our lives were heading.

That brings me back to today. It finally occurred to me to go back to that happy place…a place where the future was unknown, yet filled with joy…a place where we both felt safe, happy, and content. So, that’s where I will celebrate our 15th anniversary, sitting in Grand Traverse Bay, watching the sun set over the Leelanau Peninsula. As the last rays of the sun disappear behind the horizon, I’ll sprinkle some of your and Miranda’s ashes in that place. The joy of that memory will forever exist there, as it exists in my heart.

I love you. I miss you, today more than any other. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Half a year...

Dear Sara,

Six months.Twenty-six weeks.One hundred and eighty-two days.

That's how long it's been since the world was robbed of your smile, your laugh, your beauty, your being. Our families will never be the same, scarred by this amputation for the rest of our lives. Even with great hope, we live with great sorrow.

The paradox of time rears its ugly head. So many of those days have passed so slowly; it's impossible to fathom that it's been that long. So much of our grief feels so fresh. In other ways it feels as though what we had was a lifetime ago. It's a memory seen through the lens of history or a movie we've seen a hundred times; one where we know the lines by heart, because we spoke them, yet it feels as though someone else must have said and done those things.

We love you. I love you. We miss you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Love. Always...

"God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame."
Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Dear Sara,

One year…365 days…the world is so different from what it was supposed to be.

That night, one year ago today, was supposed to be the end. The test was supposed to be the one to confirm our fears, the one that would prompt a call to the doctor’s office on Monday morning, to set up the visit where we would let them know that we had come as far as we were willing to come and that our journey to parenthood would have to take a different path. I waited quietly in the family room for you to return with the bad news. You shouted my name and I panicked. My heart raced as I ran up to the bathroom to see what was wrong. There you stood, in shock, holding the test…with two pink lines. So much joy, so much hope, so wanted, so longed for, so unexpected…our little secret.

The journey was too fast. The end came much to soon, in so many different ways. So many stories left unwritten. So many kisses unkissed. So many hugs unhugged. So many songs left unsung. So many paths unexplored. So much life unlived.

Thank you for giving me 15 great years. Thank you for being a loving and kind wife. Thank you for being a passionate lover. Thank you for giving me the great gift of a beautiful daughter. Thank you for being a pure child of The Father.

I realize today that you were never mine. You were simply on loan to me from God. Even though my heart questions why he allowed this to happen, I know that you’re singing with the angels, praising the King of Kings, and experiencing love, life, and joy in ways that I can’t even begin to comprehend.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Father's Day...

"I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach."
Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Dear Miranda,

One year ago today, my life changed forever. It was one year ago today that mommy and I found out that you were going to be a part of our lives. It’s hard to describe how different things are, how much harder they are, than what we had imagined just one year ago today. The unspeakable joy replaced by unspeakable grief. Tears of joy replaced by tears of sadness.

On this Father’s Day, I know that you are in the presence of The Father. I know that you will never have to feel the pain, both physical and emotional, that this world imparts to those of us who remain. I know that you are experiencing joy on a magnitude that you never would have experienced here. And yet, knowing all this doesn’t take the hurt away. Knowing where you are, knowing how good the place you are is, knowing that someday I will join you there, knowing these things does not fill the hole left behind by your absence.

Today is not what it was supposed to be, not what the joy of a year ago had promised. I thank God every day that I had 3 precious days with you, but my heart aches for today. My heart cries out to God and wants to know why my precious little girl isn’t here in my arms. My heart points to the emptiness of losing you and wonders why God could not have intervened and allowed me to celebrate this day the way it was meant to be celebrated. My heart loves you and wants to have you here, it always will.

My dear, sweet, perfect daughter, I will always love you. You will always be my firstborn, daddy’s little girl. There will never be another like you.

I love you. I miss you. Give mommy a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Daddy

A day in the park...

Dear Sara,

I saw a dad with his little girl at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore today...it made me think about Miranda, and you, and how much fun it would have been to go on a vacation, carrying her around, seeing the sights, just being together as a family.

Those little moments of sadness permeate my day now. The brief glimpses into other people’s lives…the life that we were looking forward to…

I had a another moment today…a Forrest Gump moment. There came a point in the story in which, during his run back and forth across America, he stopped, turned around, and went home. He just decided he was done running. I was riding on County Road H-58 when I was overwhelmed with a desire to just go home…until I thought about the fact that home is just so empty right now. The laughter, the crying, the tears, the smell of poopy diapers…all missing.

The part of me that was you still aches in your absence. It always will. The scars will always be there, ready to send a quick reminder of the way things were…once upon a time.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Walk in the water...

Dear Miranda,

Daddy went down to the ocean today. He walked in the sand and out into the water. He watched all the other daddies playing with their babies...daddy misses you a lot today. His tears taste like the ocean.



I love you. I miss you. Give mommy a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Daddy

Location:Crown Point Cir,Corolla,United States

Family...

Dear Sara,

The Visser clan gathers today, on the western banks of the Atlantic Ocean, for several days of family fellowship. It's difficult to describe the feelings associated with this. Seeing everyone will be good and fun. Seeing everyone will also be very difficult...a full house that feels empty because your voice and laughter aren't going to be there intermingling with the rest.

A soft sadness covers me today, seeping into every thought and emotional crack and crevice.

I love you. I miss you. I always will.

Love,
Chad

Fairy tales...

Dear Sara,

I've been traveling a lot lately. It gives me plenty of time to think and process. For some reason the whole concept of fairy tales popped into my mind the other day. They're so happy...but I think that's because all we get to read is the beginning. They all end with, "and they lived happily ever after."

The fairy tale doesn't have the chapter where you sit in a broken van and watch the life draining from your wife's face, feeling helpless and scared. It doesn't have the chapter where you hold your daughter to your chest and wait...and wait...as her heart beats its final beats. No one would want to read the fairy tale where we really got to see what happens later on. If feels like our fairy tale ended with, "and they lived happily, until the end."

The hard part about losing you this way is that there was no time to say goodbye. I feel horrible about it, but I'm sometimes jealous of people who lose their loved ones after a long battle with an illness. They sometimes get months, or years, to say goodbye. I don't think that would make it hurt any less, but I do wonder if it "mutes" the pain of loss due to stretching the goodbye out over time. I guess I don't know, and I don't really want to test my hypothesis.

I think about things I would have wanted to say to you, if there had been time. I'd want to thank you for the "fairy tale." For showing me that true love does exist, and that it is simple and pure, not complex and chemical. As I travel I have time to think about what that means for my life. I'd want to thank you for showing me that marriage is good, wonderful, full of wonder and adventure, and something that SHOULD be pursued, not given up on. I'd want to thank you for making marriage something that I want to experience and share again with someone else, using the template and skills created and learned over 15 years. Thank you for that life gift.

I feel like I'm moving into the final, but longest stage of grief. The one that lasts the rest of my life. I've just recently started to have "moments" when a normal, everyday event sparks the memory of you, and Miranda, and brings soft tears to my eyes. It usually passes within in minute or two, and often ends with a happy smile of remembrance on my face. I have come to accept that my love for you has reached its peak (but what a peak it was) and will grow no more; but, it will also never shrink. It's in stasis, unchanged until the day when the Lord calls me home to join you, and all those who have gone before.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Hallmark doesn't make a card for this...

Dear Sara,

Happy Mother’s Day…

I know you’ll be having a good day whether it’s celebrated in Heaven or not. Things are a little less happy down here. I was so looking forward to being with you and Miranda today. I started thinking about this day and how great it was going to be back on June 19, 2010. Now I’m not sure what to do with myself. I guess it’s a good thing the day is packed with “activity” for me.

I hope you don’t mind, I’ve been writing to you a little less frequently. It’s not that I don’t think about you all the time, or that I’m forgetting about you and Miranda. As time moves on, I find there’s less and less to say. My heart feels your absence, just as keenly as it did 3 months ago, and no words can change that. I know that that empty spot will just always be there, regardless of what happens over the course of the rest of my life.

I guess I don’t have a lot to say today, either. My tears are just going to have to do my talking for me. I mostly just wanted to wish you a Happy Mother’s Day, mommy. If God is gracious, He’s giving you an extra special day in Heaven, at least I hope He is.

I love you. I miss you. Give Miranda a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Chad

Like a child...

Dear Miranda,

Today is Mother’s Day. It also marks 3 months since you joined mommy in Heaven. It’s bittersweet, to say the least. I hope they celebrate Mother’s Day in Heaven. I hope you get to spend a special day with mommy.

Back down here on earth, I just recently started saying “yes,” without hesitating to think about it, when people who don’t know me ask if I have children. I only have to explain that you’re in Heaven every once in a while.

Daddy loves you. He wishes you were here, with mommy, so that we could all snuggle in bed together this morning and celebrate this special day.

I love you. I miss you. Give mommy a kiss from daddy.

Love,
Daddy