I can imagine now all the times I could have spent with you.
I would have told you everything, everything.
I would have shown you how the best of times was when you could just sit and think about life.
And I would have told you how to get things you want from our parents.
I would have played with you, read to you, taught you everything.
“This is an A,” I can imagine myself saying, your face lighting up as you'd realize that was what your name started with.
“And a B,” I would stay, “Buh – buh – buh – B.”
“You,” you would have said with growing excitement, “You!”
I would have been confused until you got to your feet, chubby toddler legs wobbling as you traced the letter B and said “Buh – buh – buh B. Buh - buh – buh Becca.” You would have pointed at me. “You! Becca!”
Then I would laugh and give you a hug.
When you were older, I would tell you that guys weren't worth it, to wait for her perfect guy so you wouldn't have to go through the things I was.
And then you'd would console me as I ranted about how I wished 'he' would notice me. In the same breath.
I would take you to movies once you was old enough to understand them. And then we'd talk about it and laugh about it and quote it until we drove our parents mad.
We'd have a million billion inside jokes.
We'd be the closest sisters in the world.
We'd be all of these things...
if you had just been born.
I don't think you know what you put us all through. A few months away from being born and you just -
-disappeared.
I wish you wouldn't have done that, Amber Grace. We already had a name picked out for you.
(I got to pick your middle name. Grace.)
We would have been closer than sisters.
But it wasn't to be....






R.I.P. Amber Grace, miscarriage victim





November 2001