After Katelyn passed away, how it hurt every time I saw something that belonged to her... a favorite toy, a Dress-up, her Elmo pajamas, her Princess blankie... The heartache of knowing that her favorites would never again light up her face or keep her warm at bedtime was indescribable. Just as bad, was the pain knowing these precious things (that still had her fingerprints and sweet scent) were all I had left of my beautiful 2 year old daughter, and it instantly made them of great sentiment to me (and Scott, her daddy.) They were more precious than gold, and I felt a need to protect and preserve them. I didn't want anyone to touch them, or (our other children) to wear them out, or break them. I didn't want to lose them, or ever forget that they belonged to Kate, so I hid them away in a closet in our Piano Room. I gathered all of her things - her favorite blankie, her Dora and Boots, Abby Cadabby, the dollhouse family (which resembled our own with a Daddy, Mommy, Carson, Karlee, Katelyn and baby Kortney), her talking Teapot and teacups, her baby dolls, stuffed animals, and her Tinkerbells... and I tucked them all away. I considered them to be sacred.
Early on, our grief counselor advised us to be careful with our display of Kate's pictures and things. He suggested we not have out too many more photos of her than we do of our other children. His reasoning was if we made a type of "shrine" for her our other kids might feel less important or loved. We decided that we needed a less conspicuous place (rather than our front room) for our "memories of Kate." Since she didn't have her own bedroom, we decided that the Piano Room might be the perfect place to keep her photos and things. With its high ceiling, white trim and picture window, it was bright, beautiful, and almost heavenly. It became a kind of Sanctuary for us. It was a quiet place to go where we could just sit in the sunlight and think, or play music, look through her photo albums, hold her toys, or (for me) write down memories of her in a little diary to keep forever. It was my "safe place" when I just needed a moment alone, where I could close the door and cry... or just hold her blankie and try to feel her near me. On other days, the Piano Room was also perfect - when our hearts could take none of it, and we could just close the door (to the room or to our heartache) and save it for another day.
One year passed. It was 2010, on her Angel Anniversary when we bought a beautiful white armoire for Katelyn and her Favorite Things. (It's now my Favorite Thing/or piece of furniture in our home.) At that point I was able and my heart was ready to pull her things out of the closet and display them neatly in this delicate, perfect little armoire. Surprisingly it was healing for me to place them beautifully inside. I placed her baby dress (which was also my baby dress) in one of the drawers, along with her favorite outfits and shoes. The other drawers hold her dress-ups... and in the one drawer that locks, I placed the delicate little box that they sent home with me from the hospital that worst day in Las Vegas. That little box (that holds her handprints and lock of hair) are so dear to me because it holds the hardest memory of all. Its one I share with no one (just Scott) because... well, I don't know. My emotions with that box are still so raw (maybe it'll always be that way). But it makes me very angry when someone helps themselves to that box. I know no one else can feel the depth of the pain like Scott and I do about that box and what it represents. I dont think anyone can reverence the sacredness of that memory like we do. Just like that painful day that I've tucked deep down in my heart, this box stays locked away for only my strongest and most courageous days when I can bear it.
The other drawers and shelves are filled with happier memories, darling things that remind me of my blessed times with her. Also her things now help my little girls to know their big sister Kate. Their love for her is evident as they look at her things and touch them reverently. They relate to her love for Elmo. They feel familiar with her as they hear of her love for tea parties and Tinkerbell. They see their reflection in the armoire's mirror and listen as I tell them how "Kate use to crinkle her nose just like that" or how one shares her same dimple in her right cheek. I talk to them about everything in her armoire. To take a peek inside is a special treat for them. It is not an everyday occurrence, and they seem to reverence the times when they get to experience these sweet memories of Kate.
Through the last 6 years, its become less and less painful for me to open this little armoire. I'm afraid these precious things have long lost her smell (breaks my heart) but they will forever be pieces of her thru the memories they represent and retrieve. This beautiful armoire is a big chunk of my heart. I'm thankful for every memory that it holds. I bless every moment that we were given with our angel Katelyn. And I look forward for that day when we can see her again. This armoire brings to my heart a smile, and to my soul a sigh.
"May you find your smile again with the memories that live within your heart."
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