In the evening yesterday I became very anxious thinking about Sarah’s birthday coming up in February. It’s her 18th birthday, and I had started thinking about how much children change in just a couple of years. I was looking at photos of Sarah from 2018 up until 2022 when she died, and her face and body changed so much in just a year or two. I started to worry that I wouldn’t be able to recognize her if I saw her today in the afterworld at her current very grown-up age of almost 18.
Then I became even more anxious thinking about what will happen when I’m finally “reunited” with her, whenever I happen to die. What if she’s 34, or 48? How will I know her? What if I walk right past her? What if neither one of us recognizes the other one? This scenario, as if we were blind dates meeting up at a train station, just terrified me and pushed me almost into a panic attack.
Max was able to calm me down pretty well. He said that even if Sarah were a non-corporeal being now, which she probably is, she holds all of the essence of Sarah. We are her parents, and parents can recognize their child, always. It’s primal.
I fear losing her even though I’ve already lost her. I had a dream last night in which I was carrying around Baby Sarah and a bunch of the equipment that comes with infants, like a diaper bag and a car seat, and I looked down and I realized I had dropped Baby Sarah somewhere along the way. I was only carrying the equipment around. I knew I had to go back and find her and in the dream I felt it was hopeless. This morning I have to remind myself that she’s always with me.
The First Year Without Sarah 