The power of music....

Dear Sara,

I'm sitting here tonight, realizing it's been 8 months, to the day, since family and friends gathered together and said, "Good bye." Grief today is not nearly as potent as it was back then. Today it comes in small waves, memories lapping at the shore of my consciousness. I think about you and Miranda a lot, but no longer all day every day. I find that I don't cry as often as I used to; but, when I do, the hurt feels so fresh and powerful that it seems like I lost you yesterday.

I listen to music on the radio now, more so than I ever did when you were here. There are songs that reach out and touch me in ways that music never used to; a simple phrase from a song, a chorus repeated softly, inspired words written for others but sung directly to my heat. These tend to be the moments when those waves come crashing in. I don't fight them. Even though it hurts, it feels good to remember, to know that you're no farther away than my thoughts.

I have a playlist I recently created in iTunes called Crying Songs. I was listening to several this evening and wished that I could have sung this verse to you in those final seconds we had together. I don't know if you would have heard me or not, but it's what I wish I could have said if I'd known how bad things were.

"And with your final heartbeat
Kiss the world goodbye
Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory's side, and
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live!"
Untitled Hymn - Chris Rice

Fly to Jesus, my angles!

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

Love,

Chad

8...

Dear Sara,

Will a time come when I stop counting the months since I last saw your smile? Heard your laugh? Kissed your lips? Held you close? We just passed 8...

The trees are changing color. The maple in front of our house has already changed and will lose it's leaves over the next couple of weeks. We are now entering our third season without you and Miranda. Spring...summer...winter to come soon enough...too soon.

It was sixteen years ago this month...you and I had noticed each other and started spending copious amounts of time hanging out together in the dormitory lounge. You asked me to Homecoming 16 years ago this week...it took me a long time to learn what a huge step that was for such a shy girl.

...and now it's 8 months. Eight months since death stole you from us. Eight months of wishing, wondering, learning...wishing.

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

Love,
Chad

In the stillness....

Dear Sara,

It's been over 7 months, but the quietness of the house has caught me off guard. I was just looking at some pictures of you and the stillness engulfed me. I can hear the clock, ticking away softly on the family room wall. I can hear the muted sound of traffic passing by on West Ave, even with all the windows closed.

It's what I don't hear tonight that has me unsettled. I don't hear you. I don't hear you sitting silently beside me while you read a book or work on the cross stitch you were creating from scratch, without a pattern. I don't hear your sewing machine humming away in the dining room. I don't hear the sound of the shower running as you get ready for bed each night. I don't hear the sound of Stevie purring as he basks in the attention you would have lavished on him. I don't hear the sound of your heart, as I lay my head on your chest, and snuggle into your embrace. I don't hear the sound of our little girl rustling in her crib, stirring from her nap, over the baby monitor. I don't hear her cries indicating she's hungry, or wet, or just being a baby. I don't hear the giggles and coo's that would most certainly have been echoing through our home on this quiet Friday evening.

It's what I don't hear that makes my heart hurt again and causes the tears to sting in my eyes. It's what I don't hear that makes me ask why? Why couldn't we have left home 1 minute sooner...or 1 minute later? Why didn't we change our minds and just stay home when that storm came out of nowhere? Why? I know I won't find any answers. Not in this quiet. Not in this world.

I'll turn the TV on in a little bit. The house won't be so quiet...but the stillness will echo loudly in my heart.

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

Love,
Chad

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