 A favorite tradition in my family is that when we gather together, we take a 'cousin picture'. My sister and I started snapping photos 42 years ago when her daughter was four years old and my son was born. As my siblings and I added to our families, we continued to press the shutters until our children scattered across cities and - eventually - states. It's rare to have the original generation of cousins in one place these days, but my own three kids have carried the tradition on with their kiddos, my grandchildren.
Over the past few years, I've noticed that whenever a cousin picture is taken, there tends to be a space, a gap, room enough for another child to be positioned in the photo: a spot reserved for Kitty. It continues to be an amazing occurrence. When I first noticed Kitty's open spot in the pictures, I was rather taken back. I interpreted the curiosity as a sign or message telling me, 'Look at this ... this is where Kitty would be if she was still alive. This is where she would fit in.' Snapshots from the past several holidays and birthday parties have continued to leave me staring at the days' memories thinking, 'Wow, there's where she'd be placed in this one.' Except, she isn't. Realistically, I understand that Kitty is exactly where she is meant to be, where God intended her to exist: in our hearts, on our minds, with Jesus, watching over us. In past posts, I've noted how Kitty's death brought healing to our family, how it saved her dad from his own destructive lifestyle. For almost nine years, I've clung to the belief that in Kitty's short life, God's plan for her was fulfilled. Moments ago, as I was looking at one of the cousin pictures and preparing to write this, I recalled a recent message published in my church bulletin. Our deacon wrote: "It is so important for us to take time to drink in all that God gives us. Each day the Lord sends blessings into our lives. Some are evident, like winning the lottery! Others are more subtle, like a cool breeze in the evening or finding an extra cookie in the cookie jar." ... "There are so many ways that God is communicating his love to us in our day to day lives. There are little moments—little miracles—that we witness each day, if we open our eyes to see them." Our family tradition has become one these blessings, a little miracle that I gaze upon daily in the pictures that hang on my walls. Whenever I go upstairs and through the hallway, I am blessed by the memory of my grandchild and the reminder of how she healed our family. Praise the Lord for all of those cousin pictures that appear to be incomplete!! Along the stairway there are also nine black and white 8x10 photos in silver frames, one for each of my grandchildren, taken at the age of two-weeks. The portraits are hung in birth order with the first-born at the bottom of the stairs, winding to the top and descending back down to the youngest. As I make my way up- or downstairs, I am reminded that Kitty is truly the heart, the center, of our family. Her image is hung directly in the center of all of the cousins, with two wooden hearts above her photo. Those hearts were cut by her dad and painted by Kitty's little sister, the Dasher. So appropriate, so perfect, so very blessed.
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 The beauty in growth: a seed is planted and we patiently wait for it to sprout, for the stem to grow tall, buds to emerge and - eventually - there are colorful, fragrant blooms. We are proud of our planting and take delight in the flowers. They make us happy and give us comfort.
The Dasher had a sleepover at grandma and papa's house this past weekend, but I didn't realize during the planning that Kitty would be part of the fun, too!
There is nothing more important in my life than spending time with my grandchildren and thanking God for the time he gives me with them. It's the #1 realization I've had since Kitty died and the most true to my heart.
Over the past couple of weeks, however, had I been asked what was most important to me, that may not have been my answer. All of Belle's classmates were invited to her sixth birthday party last summer. Most of them came to celebrate. The giant water slide and child-sized zip line in the backyard kept the future first graders entertained all afternoon and by the time the group was rounded up to go inside for cake and ice cream, they were all comfortable, loud and chatty.
From my spot in the living room, I heard one of the boys ask his friends, "Did you know that Belle had a sister that died?" No one asked what I'd like for Christmas this year. I wasn't asked that question last year or the two previous years, either. Everyone knows that I can't have what I truly want. It's impossible to turn back the clock. Praying to God didn't save her, so there's no way Santa could possibly bring back my little Kitty Rose. And isn't that the gift all of us would like ... to be with our grandchildren on Christmas Day?
A few weeks ago, I had lunch with a dear friend. We have much in common, including our young grandchildren. Although her grands are all boys and mine are mostly girls, except for the Basher, our love of being grandmothers is much the same. Our lives are filled with joy at their accomplishments. We hurt when they get a boo-boo. Love abounds.
That day, over a sandwich and piece of pie, my friend reminded me of grandparents who face a different type of loss than those of us whose grandchildren have died– the loss of any chance to spend time with their grandkids. Yesterday, I had one of those moments ... an embarrassing, wish-I-hadn't-done-that, feeling-bad-now kind of moments. Am I an insensitive grandmother? I most certainly hope not! But, I sure feel like one today.
Every now and then, the guilt creeps in. It has nothing to do with Kitty's death, but rather that of being a loving, present grandmother to my living grandchildren.
Just over a year ago, I was on last-minute babysitting duty and had my then 5-year-old granddaughter, N, with me on the day of a hair appointment. I took her with me to the salon where she sat on a chair across the aisle and entertained my stylist, Hannah, with expressive stories about her twin sisters, her cousins and Kitty ... specifically that Kitty had died.
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