With Anniversaries Come Remembrance

Indy Grace, 

It’s been exactly a year since you passed away. I remember bits and pieces, but what I remember the most is witnessing your mom and dad – my sister and brother-in-law – experience the most heart wrenching moment of their lives. 

I remember getting a phone call that afternoon from your mom, who was sobbing and saying things weren’t looking good. I immediately drove myself over to the hospital in Dallas. 

I remember arriving at the waiting room, and then sitting among the others who were there for you too. A Chaplin called my name, and said my sister wanted to see me. I followed her into your small, compact room where you lay helpless. Upon spotting your mom, I embraced her and we wept. 

I remember seeing you with multiple tubes attached to your body. Whenever I peered over your bed, the words “you’ve gotten so big” escaped my lips. Shame and guilt flooded my body. I should have been more intentional to see you, but it was too late. 

I remember seeing nurses and doctors shuffle in and out of your room and stepping over cords and around large machines. Everyone spoke softly and tenderly. I saw your parents receive the news that you came back positive for Juvenile Myelomonocytic Leukemia and that there was nothing anyone could do to save you. 

I remember being in the room with just family as they laid you in your mother’s lap, with tubes and cords still attached to your body. Then they laid your twin sister, Eleanor, right next to you. Your sister was so content and so relaxed with lying next to you, that she farted. We all shared giggles. 

I remember your mom looking at me, and then asking “are you ready to say goodbye to Indy?” No, I wasn’t. I walked up to you and touched your head, and then “booped” your nose. It scrunched up in response. 

I remember sitting in the waiting room with my cousin. It was dark outside at this point. Your parents and grandparents stayed in your room as the doctors and nurses removed the tubes attached to you. Over an hour later, my dad came out to the waiting room and informed us that you officially passed away. We all sat there, raw. 

I remember your mom coming to the waiting room to ask us if we wanted to see you. When I walked back into the room, all the medical equipment was gone. You were laying there, lifeless. You were still warm to the touch, but the fiery soul that occupied that tiny little body just an hour before, was no longer with us. 

I remember the next day having dinner at your grandparent’s house, and your parents deciding to use the song “God Is In This Story” for your memorial service. They held each other as the song played. I marveled at their faith, and saw first-hand God’s promises fulfilled that He comforts those who mourn and He is near to the brokenhearted. {Matthew 5:4; Psalm 34:18}. 

I remember that your parents know Christ, and so do I, which means that we will get see you again one day, Indy Grace. {2 Samuel 12:22-23}.

~Written November 22nd, 2023