BY REBECCA KUCZARSKI

Today I need to go. I am feeling guilty, and I have that feeling in my stomach that I have lost my connection to you. It’s cold out so I know I won’t be able to stay too long, but I need our space and our time.

When our daughter Sophia passed away, there was not time to think about arrangements. We never thought we would have to decide if we were going to bury her, or not. When we made our decision it became more about our surviving children. How would we explain cremation, how would we explain where she was. We decided to bury Sophia probably because we felt it was the least traumatic thing to do. It was most important that she be close and that it be a place that we felt was right.

Sophia is buried about 5 minutes from our house, right near a huge old oak tree. Our kids have always loved to climb, so when we saw this plot we knew this would be the right spot. I used to go visit her every week, now it is less. When Sophia first passed away, I needed to be close to her, I needed to still take care of her. I would go to her grave, bring her books and read to her— Lady Bug Girl, Knuffle Bunny, many of her favorites, that I already missed reading. I would bring my lunch and just talk with her. I would ask her to send signs to her brother and sister who were struggling so much.

And all of us would also go as a family. It gave us a space to tend to her, plant flowers, decorate and touch something. These physical actions were so important to us. They helped with the excess energy we now had grieving, that loss of control.

Now we are 3 years out, and I do not go to her grave every week, often times not for a couple of weeks. Life is busy, with family, work, and activities. But, then, the aching comes back. It can start small, a feeling that something is just not right, but it grows, till I know I need to make time, time for me and my girl. I am usually by myself, although sometimes with the dog, who I think is secretly connected to Sophia, but that is a whole other story. It is quiet there, no one to interrupt my conversations, thoughts and apologies. Apologies for not fulfilling my role as her mom and protecting her and keeping her safe. I know that in my head, I did not have a lot of control with this disease, but I will always feel as though I failed her in one sense, by not keeping her alive. When I am at her grave these are things that I can say out loud, these are the thoughts that I don’t have to push down, because I need to drive to dance, or because there are a group of boys sleeping over that night, and I need to get snacks. Sophia does not talk back, and I miss that, but I feel as though she lets me know when she needs me, or when I need her. Lately I have been trying to talk to her about good memories too. I guess that means I am progressing in my grief. I need to do this for my other children. They need to remember the good times too, and having the quiet time with Sophia allows me to remember. I think I will go down and visit with her today, we got a new car and I need her to see it.