Dearest Lucy

Thursday, July 7, 2011

My dear sweet Lucy,

This is a letter to you, my daughter. I miss feeling connected to you. I struggle with how to connect with you. I miss you. Oh, how I miss you. I miss what having you alive and in my arms means. It means living without knowing this awful pain. Life was still hard, yes, but not painful like this. The sleepless nights, the inability to be there for daddy entirely. The torturous existence when I am half asleep and half awake and my worst nightmare is my living reality. I would rather live a thousand lives awake and moving and exhausted than one more minute in that state. But I live there everyday. You living means my brain can turn off by itself. It means brother and sister and a family that doesn't have a gaping hole and sadness dangling heavily over every fun event. Like overly ripened fruit ready to drop. It means living in a world of so much possibility and promise. I miss that. I long for it.

I've been struggling so much lately. In such a different way than ever before. The music has all died and I am left alone to stand and figure this out. This thing called mortality and being a mother of two children with one child for the world to see. A mother with a broken brain and a broken heart.

They say the Lord loves things that are broken. Broken earth to soak the rain and feed the flowers. The break of day to heal the night. And broken hearts to influence and mend and mold. But does there come a point that you break beyond repair? Broken communication, broken relationships, broken souls. How are these things made right? How could it ever be made right that my daughter was taken from my arms?

I sat alone in my barely lit living room this evening pouring over photos and scrapbooks of you, soaking in everything. I see so much of Peter in you when I look at those photos. I see so much of you in Peter when I look at him. Where do I look to see myself? I don't see your mom in the mirror. I only see her in the broken things in life.

My faith is shaken. My doubts are many right now. My fears are strong. I can't believe you died. I can't believe I handed you an apple slice and you died. I can't believe it. I hate it. Why? It isn't fair. It isn't RIGHT.

Oh, Lucy. Please help me. Please comfort your mommy and calm my heart. Let me know you are near. Help me know I am going to make it. That I can make it.

Sometimes it all seems like too much. The the stress of living in such an imperfect mortal world, as an imperfect person.

Tonight I just wish for a peaceful night of deep and needed rest. I will face the day tomorrow with a long run to clear my head and keep moving forward. One heavy step at a time.

I love you isn't good enough. I miss you isn't strong enough. Isn't that why one verse in the Book of Mormon states simply, "And Jesus wept." There are just no words beautiful enough to describe my sorrow.

Forever and Ever,

Little Molly Mommy


  1. I can't say anything to comfort you. But your words are written so painfully beautiful. Don't lose faith. I know you have reason to. I read this great conference address that spoke about faith being a choice. Just choose faith. What else can you do... Hurting for you.

  2. Thank you for sharing this. I'm thinking of you, and praying with you too.

    It isn't fair, and it isn't right.

  3. Molly
    I'm so Sorry for you hurt and empty heart and arms. Praying and wishing for peace for you

    Heart hugs ivy murphy

  4. Dear Miss Molly...

    hang on til daylight. Please find yourself encircled in the arms of HIS love and may you feel peace.

    Losing a child is often described as a searing unspeakable pain... I feel it in this letter to Miss Lucy. I don't know if the pain you feel will ever end... parents are supposed to outlive their children... you feel robbed... life with Miss Lucy was stolen away from you. I don't believe that the YOU with Lucy is the same YOU without her... a part of you went with her and the struggle is finding strength in the YOU that is left to keep going... for your sweet husband Vic and Mister Peter.

    I wish HOPE was smiling more brightly upon you in this dark hour of sorrow.

    I know Miss Lucy is close by and she loves YOU.

    Love, Sheila

  5. I love you Molly, and I love Lucy too... so sorry for the constant turmoil that you must go through and I wish I knew what to say to make it better. All I know is the world and my heart is a better place because of you and your sweet baby girl. Love, Shannan

  6. i don't know you in person, molly - but i have followed your blog for awhile now - and i can't even remember how or why i first found your story.

    but i want you to know that i have loved & prayed for your sweet family since first reading about all you have been through. your burden is great & i am praying this morning that the Lord would make it supernaturally light for you. even for one moment so you can catch your breath.

    blessings on the three of you here as you figure out life together.

  7. Crying for you, Molly. And Vic. For today and all of the tomorrows that bring with them an ache that feels unbearable. Crying for you.

  8. Oh Molly... :( I wish I could reach through the screen and give you a huge hug right now....

  9. Oh Molly.

    We're here.

    We too are speechless.

    With love from Sacramento,
    The Feras.

  10. I'll never have wise enough words that will bring you the comfort you need.

    Only God, Himself, has that, I s'pose.

    Go ahead and cry, then. You deserve it. *hugs*

  11. I don't know if this will be helpful to you, but after losing my little girl- I just had to find that one place where I could always feel a connection to her. I tried her room, her gravesite, the church where we held her funeral, and many many other places. But was taken completely by surprise when a month later I went to the temple and found her unmistakable presence in the celestial room. I talked to her and told her exactly how I was feeling- a lot of what I found in your letter to Lucy, actually. For me, this is still the one place where I can go and feel her presence and that connection no matter what. I would urge you to find that place for yourself.

  12. I lay here and just cry to read this. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

  13. You are such a powerful writer. This letter is almost as beautiful as Lucy is. I love it when you post pictures of her...she's so gorgeous and radiant and extraordinary.

    Every time you write about her, I try to imagine how much you must miss her, how vast and deep your sorrow must be, but I can't fully comprehend it. I think I feel like if I could feel your pain completely, I could take away a little bit of it from you.

    The small amount that I can feel takes my breath away.

    I'm so sorry. I hope you got that night of rest.

  14. Thank you for your raw honesty. This is beautiful. And so is Lucy.

  15. I want so badly to comment but feel like I can find no words to completely convey my thoughts.

    Everyone else has summed it up.
    You write so beautifully. I can't even imagine your pain. It isn't fair. It definitely isn't right. And, it makes no sense at all. My heart aches for you as well. Your strength is simply amazing and I, too, hope you got that good night of sleep. <3

  16. Molly,
    I'm so sorry. It is heartbreaking and it hurts. It's not fair or right. It's hard, very, very hard. I know it doesn't really help to know your not alone. I too still have my moments. You are beautiful inside and out. Hang in there.:)

    Sending Love

  17. Oh Molly...
    I ache for you. I could not imagine life without Shiloh, and through your blog, I imagine the pain, and it hurts... so much.
    I am so thankful to you for your amazingly powerful writing. You have a gift for putting your grief, your anger, your sadness, your raw self into writing. Your writing inspires, teaches and reaches others in incredible ways.
    You have a power to grab people and help them feel how you feel.
    I wish there was a pause/stop button to pain and grief. I wish I had that button for you and everyone dealing with unbearable burdens.
    Although your emotions and experience are very personal, your sharing of them reach others--even those who have not yet lost someone they love so dearly.
    I love you Molly. I think of you and Vic very often.

  18. Molly,
    This is so beautiful. I know Lucy hears and sees her Momma. Thank you for sharing.... I appreciate the realness and honesty. This has been a terrible ordeal and it will never be anything other than terrible.
    I love you as a person.

  19. Hi, I am new to your blog. That letter was beautiful.

  20. Thank you for sharing such a personal letter. I'm so very sorry for your pain and loss of such a beautiful little girl.

  21. I'm so sorry! I can't imagine. You write beautifully and honestly, and I'm sure Lucy aches for you to be happy too.

  22. Molly,
    Just like I love you and I miss you aren't enough to describe your feelings for Lucy, I am so, so sorry doesn't seem to express how I feel either. I have been following your blog for a long time, but haven't written but today my heart feels the need.

    I wish that all of us sharing in your pain somehow could ease yours, even just a little. I can't even begin to imagine the pain, the shaking of your faith, the cracks in the foundation of your marriage that come with losing a child....and for all of that I too am so sorry. I know you and Vic have an incredible love, you can see it in your pics, but I know that how people grieve, the feelings they have can also pull people apart....although easier said than done I applaud your ability to come back to one another. I recognize it isn't always easy, to know noone truly understands because we do all grieve differently, but at the same time Vic is the only one who knows what it is like to lose Lucy as a daughter...and i hope that brings you back to his arms when you need it most. I think the greatest gift for Lucy, along with your love, is seeing her parents smile, hold one another and comfort eachother. To be there for one another and to get through this by eachothers side would be, and is, such an honor to the love you gave and continue to give Lucy.

    I don't get it, I don't understnad why this happened, and there is no "good reason" we will ever find out in our lifetime, but I do know you are touching SO many lives. I know you would trade all that in a second, of course you would, but please know Lucy's death was not, and is not, in vain. She is teaching so many Mom's to be better, to hug more and often, to love stronger and deeper and so are you.

    You are an incredible woman who I wish I "knew" because of other circumstances but am proud to "know"....and learn from.

    Thanks for your heart, for sharing your words, for sharing Lucy....she is so precious and will forever teach so many people so many things through your love.
    Hugs, love and prayers, Emma

  23. We just celebrated our sweet little girl's 7th birthday this week. It was a hard day. July is the hardest month for me. Well, besides December and April. I miss my sweet Allie so much! My niece said something to me the other day that made me so happy. She said "I can feel Allie near me all the time. It's like she's in my pocket!" I LOVED that she said that. I love that she can feel her constantly with her. I too have times when I feel lost, lonely, and wonder WHY? Why didn't my baby even get to live even one day? I know without a doubt that she only needed to be here for a moment to get a body. That makes my soul at peace. You said something in a post one day. "We are closer to seeing you every day." That has become my motto! This year, I am 7 years closer to being with her again! Thank you for saying that. I puts everything into perspective for me. I love you and wish I could hug you! Try and be strong. Lean on Heavenly Father. He's there. He misses holding us, just as much as we miss holding our children.

    Here is my birthday post to my Allie Jane, if you would like to read it.

    marni from AZ

  24. Your words are so moving. Thank you. Lucy wants you to be happy. She wants you to enjoy the life you have with your husband and Peter. Her mission on earth was fulfilled, and she wants you to live your life with joy in order to fulfill yours.

    It is okay to feel all the emotions you described; but remember the joy that Lucy wants you to still embrace. I pray you will feel that joy....soon.

  25. Molly,
    I love how honest you are. That you do not sugar coat the immense pain that none of us can ever come close to understanding unless we too have lost a child. I have followed your blog for a long time....and can't help but always think there was/is a reason why I can't stop reading. I can't stop thinking of your little family and Lucy. Her beautiful perfect face comes to my mind when I need to be reminded....when I am being impatient with my boys...when I raise my voice with them. I see Lucy and remember how short this life is. She has made me a better Mommy. I pray for you and Vic.

  26. I too am broken. I love you Molly.

  27. I look at the picture and can just imagine how empty your arms must feel. Oh, to have her warm just-woke-up snuggle again. To smell her hair let alone hear her giggle. My heart goes out to you. It may not feel like it but you are mending. What would she want you to do right now?

  28. Oh Molly, I'm so sorry. Enduring to the end has a whole new meaning in life! Like you said, sometimes words just aren't enough or right, but I really do wish you peace and strength to get through!

  29. Thank you for sharing this personal message with us. I hate that something so beautiful was written because of your pain. It ISN'T fair. I feel that way about my little brother's wife. She's gone. Almost 2 years now. And my brother and his 3 young children are still here. We're all still here, and it's not fair. I look at pictures of my sis-in-law and I just think, "This sucks." And, I don't even like using that word. But, sometimes it's a great word. Because it's not fair that she's gone. Christ suffered exquisite pain. I know that we must suffer exquisite pain sometimes too to refine us, but it's still sucks. (wink and hug)

  30. I do not know what to say

    except for

    I mourn with those that mourn.

    I applaud your honesty and your self awareness.

    Like you say Grief is good. If you didn't feel the grief that means you would have never felt the joy.

    Personally, I want to be there to witness the reunion between you and your dear Lucy. It's going to be a million times better than the reunion I will have with my kids. Or maybe not, but it's going to be AMAZING!!

  31. Tears are streaming down my face, which happens often when I visit your blog. I am in awe of your strength, and am so sorrowful for your loss.

  32. thank you for your honesty. It's hard to explain the way your life changes after a loss. But you explained a lot that is hidden deep down inside of me. My sister forwarded me your post to read, it took a few weeks to sit down and read but I am so thankful I did. I would have rather emailed you personally, but couldn't get the contact info link to work. So here I am feeling quite vulnerable thanking you in public, but thank you for your beautiful words. I am so sorry for your loss of your dear Lucy, and so sorry for the pain and heartache you are going through.


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