You've missed her. My tall, slender, beautiful blonde girl. You've missed her smile, you've missed her laugh. You don't know that she loves music. You don't know that she can figure out lyrics to a song after listening only twice. You don't know that she loves to dance. She's an amazing dancer. She makes me smile.
You don't know what she is afraid of. You never once, not even in the beginning when you were here, helped comfort her or made her feel safe. She looks to me for safety in so many different ways. In ways that only she and I know. In a look, a touch, a nod of the head and make her feel protected and warm. Don't you wish you would have had that with her?
She's an amazing big sister. She helps me so much. She helps him do the right thing. She walked him to his Kindergarten class the very first day. It still brings a smile to to my heart to think about that. You didn't teach her to be like that. You have had nothing to do with this kind, compassionate, emotional young girl that is walking this Earth. I do. I have done it all and I couldn't be more proud of what I have done.
She asks about you. I tell her what is appropriate. Because so much of what there is to tell about you is not appropriate to tell a well adjusted adult, never mind a child. She says that she remembers things from before. I do not know if this is true. I know that my biggest wish is that it's not. She says that she remembers me crying a lot. She is right.
What you are missing in having missed her is something so amazing and magical that you will never find it any where else. And you won't be able to find it in her either, because, as I mentioned, it is my duty to keep her safe. Making sure that she is safe is the same as making sure that you have to continue to miss her. It didn't start out having to be that way. But as she becomes more amazing, the more I realize, she is not for you to know.