What does a soul look like?

I keep a picture of my daughter on my phone. It helps me to keep her close to me. It occurred to me today that my baby is only her soul now. It makes me wonder what her soul looks like.

Mother's Day

today in church all mothers were asked to stand up while they were recognized. I cried all the way through. They told me "You are a mother too." But I often don't feel that way with her gone.

Grief

It weaves in and out, a cobra taunting
It ebbs and flows, a tidal wave at times
To wrestle it is ever so daunting
Yet giving in to it exceeds all crimes   
It overwhelms, it crushes, it subdues
It pricks, it wiggles into many lives
It tugs at hope, wishing to pull it loose
Sometimes it seems to die, but it revives
A dull and steady ache, and yet it burns
A whirlpool, but one that loses pull
Expressions of this state the world spurns
But condemns those who lack it most of all
How lucky those who never suffer grief
Oh Pity those of us who seek relief.

Spring Grief

Today Ben and I took his father to Fort Collins to view an apartment. On our way back, I saw a woman pushing her baby in a stroller over to a park close to our home. It kicked me in the gut. I should be that lady now. I should be taking my baby for walks on beautiful days like today. I should be fussing over making her comfortable in her stroller and keeping her booties on her precious little feet. I should be chattering away at her as I clean my kitchen and make dinner for her daddy. I should be singing to her to sooth her crying. She never got the chance to cry and I never got the chance to sooth her.