Time for our monthly visit

Kaitlyn, this is the month your daddy and I would have gone to see you for our monthly visit. You were always so busy studying and it was so far away, you were not able to come home often, but we would go see you monthly, except for the weeks that you were studying for your boards. We didn’t want to interfere with your strict studying schedule. But I know you wouldn’t have minded. I so now wish we would have visited you at that time, but that is hindsight.

However, I AM grateful, that we saw you in April, just before you died. If I had not seen you then, I don’t think I would have been able to bear it, oh I’m sorry, I can’t bear anything right now anyway, but I am SO glad we were able to see you and experience the joy of your company, though it was for the last time.

Your actions and manner were no different than at any other time. You were still your sweet, wonderful, seemingly happy self. Funny, I use the words seemingly a lot now.

So right around this time is the time me and your daddy would be planning our trip to go see you which usually consisted of taking you out to eat at a nice restaurant, your choice, where we would eagerly listen to your stories of your experiences in med school, which you so excitedly told us about. Then, if something good was playing, we’d go to the movies. Then return to your apartment to talk to you awhile more before making our 3 and ½ hour journey back home. Oh how we looked so forward to going to see you. I would be happy all week at the mere thought of it. And when I came home, I was always a bit sad, because I knew I wouldn’t get to see you for a whole other month.

Now, unfortunately, I get to see you as often as I want to. All I have to do is drive the 3 miles from our home to the cemetery where your body rests. I see you on the plaque there where your happy, young face smiles out at me. Only now sweetheart, these visits are not happy. I have one sided conversations now with a person that once engaged me with the most interesting, intelligent conversations. Your grave lies silent, except for my cries to you at how sorry I am that you are there and not where you are supposed to be. No longer are my trips to see you looked forward to, and my trips from where you lie are sadder than any trip away from you ever have been.

I miss you Kaitlyn. And I wish with all my heart that me and your daddy were heading out to see you in Winston-Salem, instead of that lonely, silent graveyard.

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About gatito2

My name is Rhonda. I'm a registered nurse, for the last 20 years, that has not been able to work since the day I learned of my daughter's death by suicide 4-12-13. (She actually died 4-11-13 and her body was not found until the 12th) Me and my husband have been married for 32 years and he's a wonderful man. We grieve in different ways. He works, I write. This is my journey through this horrible land of losing a child..
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