Tag Archives: generation trauma

I remember first holding you, so tiny in my arms.
Next thing I knew, you turned two, angelic and quite the charm.
Your silhouette dances in my dreams before my eyes,
Remembering your joy through my simple lullabies.

I imagine your eyes, your voice, your laughter,
Spending time together, nothing else mattered.
I thought about you often before crawling into bed at night.
I loved you deeply and never wanted you out of my sight.

I wish you could tell me what’s on your mind today.
What are the things you’re longing to say?
Would you have married a wonderful husband?
Lived in a castle and had many children?

Oh, if only I could see you now. I would run to you—
I would hold you and twirl you around.

Oh, sister, there will always be a hole in my heart,
But I guess somehow I knew that from the start.

If only I had you to talk to, share secrets with, laugh, and cry,
I would not be here thinking: why? Why did you have to die?

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Excerpt, Chapter 2 of Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace

Soft, velvety cheeks. A round, rosy nose. Dark hair like mine, but curly. Eyes, blue that sparkled like the ocean I’d seen in storybooks. I kissed her sweet-smelling face. Her soft, pudgy hand with tiny fingers curled inside mine. Anna melted my heart. I won’t be alone anymore. I caressed her cheeks and whispered, “I’ll stay by your side for always.”

Soon left with the responsibility of caring for Anna, I became her substitute mother. I loved her and took care of her as best as a seven-year-old could.