Dear Maggie,
One more thing. Last night we were at your uncle Nathan's house for an open house for your cousin Zach who is leaving soon to serve a mission in Japan. We were in and out of the living room and the backyard all night. There were people in both places and you went back and forth. At one point you and I and daddy and a group were in the living room. I was talking and you were walking around from person to person. At one point you went to the screen door and started playing with the handle. Unfortunately you turned it enough that it unlatched when you weren't expecting it, but when you were leaning on it, and you tumbled down the concrete steps below. We gasped and ran to get you, crying at the bottom. I expected to see blood. I expected a big bump on your head. I expected something terrible. The people outside said you rolled down sideways, rather than head over heals as it seems would have been most likely considering the way you fell. You were crying but calmed fairly easily and this morning the only evidence was a little red mark on your cheek. Today we were back at uncle Nathan's house and aunt Militza asked if you had any bumps or marks from your fall last night. I said only a little red line on your cheek that I assumed was from that. She replied, "Someone must have been watching over her." I nodded, thinking it was just something people say. And then I was overcome by a different feeling. Aunt JuJu. I saw the realization of my same thought cross Militza's face and she said what I was thinking, "Maybe it was Joydell." I nodded and smiled but inside I was so overcome with emotion that I had to turn away and just experience it for a moment. I can't say for sure baby girl, but I know that fall could have and should have been worse than it was. And I know that your aunt JuJu loves you and would love nothing more than to help you from the other side. And me. And what better help than keeping my baby girl safe?
When aunt JuJu was sick and we knew she only had a few weeks left someone told your aunt Gwenna about an experience they had of dying and being brought back to life. She told her about what Heaven was like and made the comment that Joydell would be able to help us from the other side. She said that throughout our lives we would notice times when she helped us. I told Gwenna, when she shared this story with me, that Joydell would love that job and that she would make an awesome guardian angel. She loved people so much and always wanted to help them. Anticipating how much I would miss her I loved the idea of her still being with me, watching over me. And having a guardian angel seemed like a small "bonus" to come from something that I otherwise found to be horrible, and rotten, and heart-breaking and so unfair. I hated everything about the thought of her being gone from this Earth with me still on it. The thought that she might watch over us felt like a consolation prize. But a comforting consolation prize.
Baby girl, I miss your aunt every moment of every day. And I think every day about how much she would enjoy seeing you, and the rest of us. And how she would have smiled hearing you start to put words together -especially words like "more cake". I know she loved me and was proud of me. She told me often. And I heard her tell other people when she thought I wasn't listening, so I know it was true (not that I would have doubted it otherwise, but it was special to me to hear her say it). I know she loved and adored you because I saw how her face lit up every time she saw you, and when she didn't know I was looking. She had a hard time letting people fall, figuratively speaking. She would have saved them every time if she could have. I think that last night on the stairs, for you, she did. I have been thinking, for whatever reason, about her hands a lot lately. She had beautiful hands, with long slender fingers and well manicured nails. And they were so soft. As everything in her was getting so sick and aging beyond her years her hands remained soft and beautiful. I miss seeing them and holding them, which is probably why I have been thinking of them. I love the image of those gentle yet strong hands catching you and shielding you as you rolled down the stairs (in a way that was way to gentle to have been done without some sort of help I realize now). And I love the thought of the gentle smile on her face as she left you for us to pick up and comfort, knowing she had been a help. That she had protected you. And I love the thought of her being with us even when we can't see her.
Baby girl, I know that she won't be able to protect you from every fall, but you have one of the best guardian angels watching over you. I wish she could watch over you here. Where I could see her and talk to her. I don't think I will ever stop wishing it. But I guess if this is the consolation prize, it is a good one. I know I don't see the eternities clearly now, and one day when I do I will probably understand that it is actually not a consolation prize at all but a beautiful part of the grand plan that it so amazing I couldn't comprehend it now anyway. Someday Joydell will be able to tell me all about her own experience with it and what was happening for her while we were all feeling left behind. I'm not eager to die, but I look forward to having that conversation with her. In the meantime, as we muddle through here below without her, I pray that we will be able to feel her gentle interventions in our lives. It just makes sense. She loved us. And we loved her. And families are a forever kind of deal.
Love,
Mama
