Eleven years, and a few days, ago...
How could I have forgotten to mark it's passing.
I was getting in the van to go home from my friends house.
And my mother told me, those horrible horrible words,
"D- lost the baby."
And I couldn't understand, "What?" I said.
And she replied, "The baby died."
I was fourteen, and this was my first experience with death.
My niece. Beautiful Amariah.
She was full term when her heart beat stopped.
Just like that.
My sister was younger than I am now.
And none of us saw it coming.
Babies aren't supposed to die.
Half-way across the county, alone, my sister mourned.
We only heard how she mourned, we couldn't be there for her in person.
We heard of her holding Amariah for hours, staying in the nursery holding what was left of hopes and dreams.
Half-way across the country, I cried in the backseat of a van while we went home.
And I spent weeks watching my mother cry, and not completely understanding.
Because, when I saw her last she had been fine. Her belly huge with expectations.
I couldn't understand what happened. But I could cry.
I can't believe I forgot the anniversary until it had passed. It's already September.
It's like Amariah died a few days ago. And I cried all over again today.
Beautiful, perfect, Amariah.
Your auntie still misses you.
Even after all these years-
I still love you.