I ran into Jenny tonight, and I told her that I hadn't felt ready to blog. But when I got home I realized that if I didn't blog now, I might never do it. Some of you may already know, but for those of you who don't, my niece Elizabeth passed away September 7th. I miss her.
Most of you never got to meet my darling girl, though you probably heard about her frequently. I often spoke about her health issues, my experiences while helping to raise her, and the incredible things she used to say. I can't imagine not having her around anymore, but I know that's exactly what's going to happen. I'm still going to be here, and she's not.
On the day of her memorial I went to my mother's house, and she showed me a picture that captured Lizzy perfectly: her intelligence and her sense of humor. From the time Lizzy stopped wearing diapers, it was clear she would always have a problem finding pants that fit. You see, she had a large tummy (caused by her illness forcing her organs to squash towards her stomach) and a very small butt. Every pair of pants she owned slid down and showed the crack of her butt. The family took to calling her "plumber butt." The picture my mother showed me was taken at her house. Lizzy had called to Mom from the kitchen saying, "Grandma! Come here. I've got something to show you." My mother went to the kitchen to find my girl on her hands and knees with her head in the cabinet under the sink. She had pulled her pants half way down her butt, revealing a crack almost as large as Dan Akroyd's. This was my Lizzy, my darling girl. She took life's cruelties and turned them into laughter.
It hasn't quite been a month, but I've already started to heal. This is what she would have wanted. I've found happiness in the classes I teach at the university, and I know Elizabeth would have been excited for me. She loved school and her teachers, and I know she was happy that I chose to become a teacher.
Lizzy's ashes are going to be spread around the memorial tree planted at the elementary school she attended. It's highly illegal for us to do so, but we want her to rest somewhere that made her happy, and she was never happier than when she was in school. In this she was very much like her aunt.
Most of you never got to meet my darling girl, though you probably heard about her frequently. I often spoke about her health issues, my experiences while helping to raise her, and the incredible things she used to say. I can't imagine not having her around anymore, but I know that's exactly what's going to happen. I'm still going to be here, and she's not.
On the day of her memorial I went to my mother's house, and she showed me a picture that captured Lizzy perfectly: her intelligence and her sense of humor. From the time Lizzy stopped wearing diapers, it was clear she would always have a problem finding pants that fit. You see, she had a large tummy (caused by her illness forcing her organs to squash towards her stomach) and a very small butt. Every pair of pants she owned slid down and showed the crack of her butt. The family took to calling her "plumber butt." The picture my mother showed me was taken at her house. Lizzy had called to Mom from the kitchen saying, "Grandma! Come here. I've got something to show you." My mother went to the kitchen to find my girl on her hands and knees with her head in the cabinet under the sink. She had pulled her pants half way down her butt, revealing a crack almost as large as Dan Akroyd's. This was my Lizzy, my darling girl. She took life's cruelties and turned them into laughter.
It hasn't quite been a month, but I've already started to heal. This is what she would have wanted. I've found happiness in the classes I teach at the university, and I know Elizabeth would have been excited for me. She loved school and her teachers, and I know she was happy that I chose to become a teacher.
Lizzy's ashes are going to be spread around the memorial tree planted at the elementary school she attended. It's highly illegal for us to do so, but we want her to rest somewhere that made her happy, and she was never happier than when she was in school. In this she was very much like her aunt.
4 comments:
Mishell, I remember the stories you'd tell about Lizzy, I'm sorry to hear about her. Whenever someone I know passes, I try to hang on to the things they taught me. Sounds to me like you learned great things from her, amazing that children can teach lessons to adults without even realizing it.
It's good to hear you're healing, and see your blogging again.
I checked in tonight just to see, and I'm glad at what I saw.
Is it rude to say that I can totally see your personality in the 'plumber butt' thing? Though I mean it in a complementary, charming kinda way.
I sounds like you have many wonderful memories of Lizzy to help keep her with you. I think that's the best we can ask when someone we love moves on.
It's good to see you back.
You've got my sympathies.
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