From: Michaela's Mom, Still Missing Her
Date: Jan 24, 2009 12:10 PM
Today is Michaela's birthday
Today is Michaela's birthday. She would be thirty years old today, and yet she is forever frozen in time for me as a little girl.
Sometimes on my way home from somewhere, I drive by the house where I lived when she was born. I never do that on purpose, because it stirs up way too many feelings. Yes, there are so many sweet, tender memories hidden away in that house, so much love and joy. But I must admit, it is really difficult to just allow myself to feel that love and joy without feeling those other feelings ... the ripping of my heart as that love and joy were torn away, leaving a wound that will never really heal. And anger. Yes, still there is anger. I'm not angry at God anymore. I'm not really angry at anyone anymore. I'm just angry.... It's hard to describe, but when I think about that time I lived in that house, I only had Michaela at that time, and I think about a lifetime of sitting and holding her. I remember going to the grocery store with her cuddled safe to me in her Snugli. I remember sitting on the floor stacking up alphabet blocks. I remember her sweetness, and her joy and delight as she grew and learned new things.
All those things were sweet in their moments, and I have to learn to just focus on that, on those things as themselves, things in their moments. And yet they were more, because they were preparation for a life to come. Everything she had done in life, as much as it was wonderful in itself, was laying a groundwork for a life to come, and after all that groundwork was laid, how could someone just come and take that life to come away from her.
Yes, my friends, it is true that I don't know for certain what happened to Michaela. But I do think it is most likely that she is home, and has been home for a very, very long time. I think that the home she has come to is a lot nicer than the one I'm sitting in now. I think it is a home where she can actually still feel my love for her, only it is not tinged with the bitter sorrow of its loss, but rather with the sweet knowledge that it lives forever, and that we will see each other again. I think it is a home where there are no tears. I think it is a home where all that time spent learning how to read probably isn't worth much, but all that time spent learning to love is worth everything.
One day, probably I will go home to her instead of her coming home to me. And that will be a joyful thing. But for right now, I think Michaela is happy, and she doesn't need me. Other people here do need me.
I have to tell you, wonderful and kindhearted people are always telling me to have faith, that she will come home. I know what is behind it when people say that, that is is only love and caring. And yet I have to tell you that it kind of irritates me sometimes, because when you tell me to believe that Michaela is still alive, you are asking me to believe that my sweet, innocent little girl has spent the last twenty years living in fear and grief. Look at the composite of the man who kidnapped my daughter. Look at her age, and how beautiful she was. I can tell you that she was not kidnapped to be adopted by some nice, childless family. Her life would not have been a good one. I just want my daughter to be happy, to be enfolded in the arms of love.
What is faith? What is hope?
I do not know yet what I am going to do today for Michaela's birthday. It is all so conflicted. I came to a point awhile back where I couldn't get birthday cakes for her, because I couldn't even entertain the idea of enjoying that sweetness in the bitterness of losing her. And yet, she WAS sweetness and joy and love. In my heart, she still is, and yet she is sorrow that is so deep and so dark and so just plain unending that I can barely even skirt the edges of it. I think perhaps this will need to be the next step in my healing ... to be able to fully embrace my daughter with joy for who she was, who she will always be to me, instead of having to stand back at just a bit of a distance for fear of being sucked into a black hole of grief from which there is no escape.
And yet there is. Here is my faith, that in the darkest of my dark places, God can reach in and pull me out. I just have to have the will to grasp the hand he reaches out to me.
So I grab that hand, pull myself out with God's strength and not my own. And once again I say ...
Happy Birthday, Michaela, wherever you are. If you are home already, I will be happy for your joy and peace. If you are still here, then come home to me, PLEASE! Just know that I love you forever, for always, with all of my heart.