Kittymomma's Adventures

NOTE: I wrote all of the eulogy, except for the part about what Lucy taught her Daddy. He wrote that.

We can’t believe we had Lucy and we lost her. She was everything we dreamed of in a daughter. Beautiful, smart, strong, feisty, and sweet. She let you know what she wanted. First, with a loud, shrill scream, later with her favorite word “no”. She had about seven different “nos”, all with different inflections to express her level of outrage and distress at the time.

We loved the name Lucy Blythe for so many reasons. “Blythe” was an homage to Sara’s favorite book “Anne of Green Gables”. But most of all, “Lucy” means “light” and “Blythe” means “happy and carefree”. We wanted her to be free of the anxiety and second-guessing that had plagued us for much of our lives. And I think she did spend her life free of anxiety. She often felt sick and tired, but she, like all young children, lived in the moment. Except for when unpleasant medical procedures were being performed or she felt especially sick, Lucy was happy. She did not hold grudges (much). She did not worry about the future. As long as she was with her family, she was happy.

She was the light of our lives and so many others. She was always observant and solemn, which made her smiles and laughs that much more special. You felt like she really looked at and listened to you. She saw into everyone’s hearts and accepted what she found there.

She brought happiness into the PICU at Dell Children’s Medical Center. Children there are often very sick and unresponsive. Lucy was very sick, but you couldn’t tell by looking at her a lot of the time. People would come by because they had heard about the cute baby in that room. They would smile and wave and she would usually smile back. We were so happy she could brighten the day of people who love children so much that they are willing to withstand the pain of being with them and their parents in their darkest hours.

She taught her brother his first lessons of love and sacrifice. He loved to suck his thumb and hold her ear, to have her next to him at bedtime, to smoosh her face. She taught him generosity by letting him do all of those things and respect for others by squawking when she wanted him to stop. She is now teaching him about loss and moving forward.

She taught her mama to once and for all stop doubting herself. That she is strong. That she needs to stop torturing herself with fear. That she can do and survive anything. That she doesn’t have to be perfect to be loved.

She taught her daddy that chaos is best faced with resolve, patience, and forgiveness. To take comfort in the strength of a loving community. To sacrifice anything that isn’t important. To love without hesitation and have faith in family.

Lucy seemed to be on the path to being the child we wouldn’t be able to turn our backs on for fear we’d find her on top of a tree or in the middle of the kitchen table. I don’t know why she was turned from that path. But she did her best to experience and enjoy life, despite the pain and obstacles and extra work that were thrown in her way. She loved our cats. She was starting to dance. She loved Elmo and stacking toys. We were all just starting to know her and find out what she loved. We wish we knew more, but will hang on to what we have.

In honor of her, do something you love every day. When pain is over, let it be over. Do your best to love hard and live in the now, so you can let go and be satisfied when the time comes. We believe she was satisfied and ready to go. Her body was no match for her spirit. She needed to be free.

Our baby girl was so loved and made such a huge impact. She lived a full life. She did her work. As Sara’s aunt Martha said on the phone a few days ago, “She was your greatest teacher”. We are so proud of our little girl. Well done, lady baby. We love you. Good-bye.