I’ll never forget the very first moment I felt it. I can still see the room and feel the moment like it was yesterday. Laying in bed, pregnant with our first child, watching tv, probably snacking on something to keep the nausea at bay. And then all of the sudden a flutter in my stomach. No not the nervous energy kind, although my adrenaline did start pumping, but a physical flutter. Followed by another and another. I was experiencing my first real interaction with Londyn. As any expecting mother can relate I was beyond excited and had to tell everyone about it right away. Sean even humored me by placing his hand on my belly and pretending to feel her tiny kicks although I doubt they were registering on the surface quite yet. I knew I was pregnant but knowing and feeling are two totally different things. At five months pregnant I was barely showing a baby bump so this became a beautiful confirmation of sorts. The first sign of a new life on her way into the world.
I’m not sure where or why but somewhere along the way I became fascinated with signs. It’s a large part of why I chose her name. I already knew what I wanted to name her, had known it since the first time a little girl came bouncing up to me at my first job in Dillards and unabashedly announced “Hi! My name is London!” It’s when I finally did some research, however, that I discovered the name’s true meaning and the beautiful strength associated with it. From the moment I discovered I was having a little girl I knew I wanted to instill a trait of strength in her. To bring Londyn up to be a fierce strong woman. It turns out this seemingly random name, a name I had held in my memory from a chance encounter almost ten years earlier means “fortress of the moon” , a symbol of leadership, strength and power. I was convinced this was another sign. If there was ever any doubt, there was now none. This was meant to be her name.
For those blessed to know Londyn, I think we can all agree she had the inner strength and fierceness of ten wolves. Even from her very first moments of life she made her displeasure known, not at all pleased with having to be forced out into the world earlier than planned and, despite her tiny 5 lbs 11 oz frame, ready to tell everyone about it. In addition, imagine our shock when we first saw that beautiful crown of fuzzy red hair which we would eventually find also came packaged with a full compliment of the fabled Irish temperament. While this made parenting incredibly challenging I was nonetheless in constant awe of the courage and determination she displayed in so many facets of her life. Yes she was as stubborn as they came, always in the right and the last to give into any argument, but she was also fiercely loyal and a champion for those who struggled with the strength to stand up for themselves. She lived her life boldly and without apology and it’s the sudden absence of this large colorful personality that makes the hole in our lives all the larger.
And so, since Londyn’s death, I find myself looking for ways to fill this hole. We’ve stayed busy, hoping that distraction will help us move on. But these fruitless attempts ultimately fail time and time again. Instead, it’s the signs I find so heartening. It’s like I’ve somehow landed in this special in-between universe. A place magically revealed only to those of us connected to our loved ones who have moved on. It’s the crescent moon gem found in the bottom of my bag after unpacking from Lauren’s ceremony at UT. Or the random white crescent moon painted on the side of a train spotted while driving into Austin. The Grey VW beetle (an almost perfect replica) that followed us part of the way home after packing up her apartment shortly after her death or the beautiful copper/red sunset streak that appeared at the exact moment of her balloon release of her birthday celebration. The larger than life crescent moon shining over us on a trip in NYC perfectly placed between sky scrapers and the shiny penny discovered under my sister's bag after a long flight home shortly after reading my latest blog. These signs can be comforting and overwhelming all at once but they cannot be denied.
And so it is that I now find myself looking for the next signs. Signs of a life cut short but still very present. Maybe not in the way we would prefer but feeling her presence just the same. She is my muse and even now, as I step out the front door to attend Easter service, an event celebrating life and hope, I am greeted by the most beautiful red cardinal that just happens to be sitting on my sidewalk. She is once again making her presence known and providing us with another sign of life.
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