That’s a fine looking high horse What you got in the stable?

I have no words for how much this song means to me. The second I got into car at the hospital it came on. I battled between songs for my child’s funeral and this was a tough call. I was shown this video today where a choir surprised him at his own show. I swear I’ve spent a portion of my night in the gym watching it over and over. It’s breath taking. The song alone is, but the collaboration and the pure joy in the room is whatever the opposite word of devastating might would be. To whatever your beliefs may be; I must hold true to God for all he brings me and I must hold true to faith. Faith is that invisible monster that you can’t see but only works when you feed it power. Always feed it, and it will always replenish you with what is good and whole in this world. I honestly have no words. I am just blown away by this rendition of this song; it was much needed and holds such an amount of comfort.
I love and miss you and mommy holds you so so very dear to her heart; forever and for always. Thank you for the answers that I asked of you.

“She’s the giggle at a funeral
Knows everybody’s disapproval
I should’ve worshipped her sooner
If the heavens ever did speak
She’s the last true mouthpiece
Every Sunday’s getting more bleak
A fresh poison each week”

My oh my how the Gods all cry.



No one really knows why they are alive until they know what they’d die for.~MLK Junior

I’ve already gone over a lot of my baby girl. I’m well assured that there will be a day where I write the longest and most profound thing I’ve ever written, but today is not that day. She is the most profound thing that I ever managed to do in my life. It’s not that I was an over the top amazing mom, it’s just that she was an over the top amazing girl. This I know.
These couple of days have been the hardest I’ve ever been dealt. Without her, who am I? Am I still a mom? Do I just return back to a life of when I was 29?
There was a fight. I didn’t care. I sat at the table with my mom, my dad, my sister and I slammed my fists on the table and I screamed “I don’t fucking care. This is for her. Not you.”
I have kept my mouth shut all of my baby’s life just to focus on what matters the most; her. Now I must scream to make sure she is honored in a way that she fought so hard to be.
I “slept” two hours off and on. Between vomiting and sweating and my heart racing; I just can’t. I slept with a friend of hers whom we call “Kenzie.” Her sister slept with elephante. Her step mom slept with stitch. Her brother slept with izzy. Her dad remained sleepless. I got to their house, where we all looked the same. As if we had been on a week long heroin spree. All eyes swollen completely shut (not an exaggeration) no one slept in their beds. Everyones body hurt. Everyone is dead inside.
I’ve had to be the strong one so far. Her dad has lost it. I’ve never seen him this way in all that we have been through with her. He’s not up for it so I’ve had to make the calls and answer the phone. After getting interrogated for an hour or so we had to come to the talk to end all talks. It was innocent. It was good; but it was the most powerful talk I’ve ever had, and the toughest choice I pray I ever have to make again.
We had spoke the night before after the phone rang from donor services wanting all of her organs. We started to speak of what is she going to wear. Where do we bury her; we want it close. Do we do open casket, closed casket? What would she want?
We sat driving home and her dad said to me, (first words he’s spoken since it happened) I don’t want a big funeral. No one should see her like that. I lost it! What do you mean? I had already knew I wanted to do closed casket-explain in a second; but no funeral.
No, he wanted her to be cremated. The three of us sat in silence on the way home. My mom had texted me in the mean time if she could buy her a cross necklace and a pretty dress to which I responded “fuck no mom. Stop.” I didn’t know what I wanted her buried in, I only knew I wanted stitch in there and that it was going to be something that she loved to wear. It was going to represent her and be something that she wanted. The entire purpose.
We get to their house and he brings up his points, which flourish my own. We agreed. We both saw each other’s side, I found his to be more correct and more honorable for her. The fact is, neither would be appeasing to me. Let worms eat her or her be burned. Neither present a situation as to her being home in my arms.
So that was our choice. It was a hard one. It was fought. It was thought through. It all boiled down to these things:
We get to have a piece of addy at all of our homes, by our side at every moment. She’d want that.
We don’t have to drive to visit her, we just get to say good morning and good night every day. She’d want that.
She doesn’t have to be buried by people she didn’t know. She’d want her family instead.
We won’t be in debt for twenty years. She’d want us to not feel a burden.
We don’t have to put ourselves or anyone else through seeing a tiny coffin for her. She’d want a good memory, not one that haunts people.

The most important one was this; she was always screaming smiling. Mouth wide open, all teeth showing all hours of the day. She wasn’t going to be this. Did we want her pumped full of poison and make up put on her in a attempt to capture who she was? Or do we just know who she was and let us all keep the memory of her as it is. She doesn’t deserve more torture to her body for those to get a last look at something that’s not even close to capturing who she is.

That was it.

It came down to me accepting that the girl I kissed goodbye was long since gone, only her body remained. Who knows what time she left us. Maybe the answer will come, it may not. I kissed a body goodbye. She heard my words as she looked over me. Guarded by police, detectives, fireman, doctors, nurses, and grief counselors; it was only me and her in that moment. I got to say what I wanted and I got to kiss her one last time. That was the hardest room to walk out of-until I had to exit the hospital. See, Id been there many times, but I’d never left without her.
I wanted her to have peace for all the fight she had put up. I couldn’t have that. Given the law they had to do an autopsy. Here is a girl who fought her entire life and had been cut and poked the entire time. God presented her with peace (or someone, not sure about God anymore) and she got to go run and play and eat and talk and do it all; but not before they cut her wide open again. The cruelest ending to what was a beautiful life. We didn’t have a choice. They legally had to.
I left that house looking at the puddle of blood in her brand new room. I left empty, but I left at peace. That given the best case scenario, this is what she would have chosen for herself. To be with all of us every day and for us to feel the comfort of her each and every day in whatever home both families now choose. Mine filled with ghosts, their new house filled with death.
The pastor had some great things to say, that brought little comfort, but some nonetheless. So I leave on that note, as its time to drown it finally. For just a moment.

And he said
“Watching old people die is easy. We get to reflect on all that they had. All that they did. All that they touched. Watching a child die is the highest form of hell. We will forever be haunted by what we wanted to do with them. What their future was. All that they would have been. It’s not just the death of a future, it is the death of a life of what ifs. That’s what nightmares are made of.”

I chose that to be my time to go.
Where ever you are my moon, mommy loves you and will honor you to the day I die. This I promise you. We all love you very much.
I’m not up to the point of celebrating your life yet, I’m still mourning, but mommy promises to get there one day.