Remember

To remember them— Dominic and Bridget— both who died in September (six years and a day apart), we spend the anniversary of their death, their angel day, as a family. A family fractured by separation which death creates.

We created the tradition for Dominic. The day he died, we went to the Temple grounds without him and spent the rest of the evening walking around the place that represented a hope of reunion in the eternities. So each year we returned, until 2007 when we were in the same hospital he had died in, the same PICU, with his little sister just a day away from her own entry into paradise. Last year we tried to find a way to keep the tradition for Dominic, and make a new tradition for Bridget.

Serendipitously, it was a symbolic choice for each place we go on each angel day. A place where we didn't get to share with them while they were here with us on Earth, the wishing to have them here to share these experiences with them, and the hope to be able to have a chance again to share with them someday.

We never went to the Temple grounds with Dominic, although Bridget did go there with us:

02 September 2007

So this is where we go for his angel day.


We didn't get to share these Falls with Bridget, although Dominic did go there with us:

May 2001

So this is where we go for her angel day.

Both are places where it seems God has a presence. And someday, perhaps, we will share these places as a whole family.

Here are a few pictures from Dominic's Angel Day 2009:

This is the place we sat together to have our family picture taken (above) only six days before Bridget would have her crisis event:

On the drive home, the clouds were settled just above the horizon, on the foothills of the mountain. It seemed we could drive ourselves straight into the heavens. It was a somewhat tempting thought.

Here are a few pictures from Bridget's Angel Day 2009:

Pictures

Saturday, September 8, 2007

Two years ago today I didn't take any pictures. I had been taking at least one every day of our infant daughter, Bridget. Pictures like this, taken the night before that day, two years ago today:

That morning, we left with some friends who were here from Idaho and went to IKEA. I figured I'd take lots of pictures in the afternoon. It was a Saturday, and we had lots of time. But we didn't go back home that day. Instead our infant daughter, Bridget, was resuscitated inside IKEA, taken out of the store by the paramedics into the ambulance, and driven from the front of the store to the corner of the parking lot where she would be life flighted to the Children's Hospital. My husband and I were driven in a firetruck, while a firefighter drove our van, to the same hospital. We were in no condition to drive.

When we got there, we had to wait. And wait, and wait. She wasn't stabilizing. They were doing all kinds of things for her, and we were in the same room they put us in when Dominic had been flown there exactly six years before. You know it's bad when the social workers are called in on the weekend, and they put you in that room. I wish it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

Hours went by. Finally we were allowed to go and see her. I didn't have a camera with me. I asked for a camera. All they had was a polaroid camera, and they took three pictures for me. I hoped to show her one day what she went through, what she put us through. All the tangles she was in to keep her life supported while we waited for the miracle from God to keep her life sustained. Preserved. But instead, they are the only pictures from that day two years ago. And there were never to be more of her like she was before.

I love you, Bridget! Miss you terribly! And still feel so terrible for what you went through. I'm sorry.

Saturday, September 8, 2001

And it brought back everything from six years before that. Eight years ago today. We did take pictures that day. Mostly pictures my mom had taken with her digital camera,like this picture:

We had our camera that day, although we hadn't taken a lot of pictures of him. We were at Lagoon and were mostly taking pictures of the older kids on the rides. And then he stopped breathing. And they tried to resuscitate him and called the ambulance. The paramedics resuscitated him en route to the nearest hospital and then he was life flighted from there to the Children's Hospital. We were taken into that room. I knew enough to know it wasn't good when they put you in a room like that before they'd let you see your child. But we hoped for a miracle. Finally we were able to see him.

He was so sick. All the tangles he was in to keep his life supported while we waited for the miracle from God to keep his life sustained. Preserved.

I took pictures hoping to show him what he went through, what he put us through. But instead, we are here eight years later and he is not. And there were never to be more pictures of him like he was before, and no new pictures of what his life was to become.

I love you, Dominic! Miss you terribly. And still feel so terrible for what you went through. I am sorry.