Khyri Lynn was my perfect baby girl. She was taken from us too soon by the worst of accidents when she fell into a canal at daycare. I am her mom, and this is my story...from dark to dawn...the good, the bad, and the awful. This blog is an outlet, a coping mechanism, a hope that maybe reading my story will help other grieving parents write theirs.
The Door
There's a door in my house that I hate. It mocks me, and it criticizes me, a constant reminder that I failed my little girl. When we moved into this house, I was excited because of the space, and now there's too much. There's a really full, empty room at the end of the hallway. With a door that taunts me. I don't like to open it, but I can't stay away. Behind this door is an empty room. A room with walls as empty as the tiny Minnie Mouse bed in the corner. It smells of cardboard and dust, of tears and broken dreams. There are totes and boxes full of clothes and toys, of heavy-hearted holidays and birthday parties that will never be thrown. There's a shoe and an empty sippy cup, a car seat and a pack n play. Blankets that our little Linus baby will never pack around again, and a staircase that remains boarded up, even tho its unnecessary now. Its the loudest quietest room in the house. I hear sleepy baby cries through the wall at night, and the stupid door reminds me that its all in my head, and laughs at me as I walk away...reminding me yet again that its an empty room, that if I was going to listen to something it should have been my gut instinct that morning. I should have called into work. I should have known something was up when I forgot the stupid diaper bag. I should have known. I hate this door.
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