Gemma's 7th

It's your birthday today, Gemma. I can't quite say Happy Birthday because it doesn't feel like that at all. We're not 'celebrating' today. Not really. And we're not just 'remembering' or 'honoring'. When it comes to missing you in our lives, we don't have the vocabulary to describe how it feels.

But we don't want this day, September 1st, to tick by and slip through our fingers and move along without anything to set it apart. Some moments I want to line up glass jars and smash them all with a baseball bat, or I wish I had the strength to knock down a tree and make the branches crash and break as they roll down the hill. That doesn't feel like the way we want to mark this day, though! So I get out some streamers and ribbons and a few pink things, and put them at the table. All day the boys and I wear our bead necklaces. We talk about you at breakfast and during the day; once again Timo asks, "But when is Gemma coming back?" And later he tells Mattias, "Don't worry, Mattias, when we see Gemma we will both give her a hug."

It's rainy and chilly today so we have to stay inside, and the boys are going crazy with their energy and desire to use their muscles and run and jump, so I let them ride their bikes on the driveway in the rain. I think about how if you were here you would be old enough now that I could let you ride your bike down the driveway and get the mail out of the mailbox. And you could help me stir up the cupcake batter - and probably make the frosting by yourself without my help. While we wait for them to bake you could hold Hawk and read him a board book (really read the words by yourself! I know you would have loved to read!). Would you like a cup of tea and a rusk for a snack? Now the cupcakes are ready to be frosted, and Timo and Mattias decorate them with sprinkles. Stop eating so many, I say. But then I bite my tongue. This is for you and it looks so pretty no matter how many end up on the floor or eaten besides.

And now it feels a bit like "Happy Birthday", as we gobble down our cupcakes, and smile for a picture. 

We miss you.