In the hospital Georgia was sometimes agitated, and often the best comfort I could give her was to sing or hum along with the lullaby music we had. We had one Fisher-Price crib toy that would repeat "Twinkle, twinkle Little Star" over and over, and my voice would grow hoarse as I sung along to it, willing her heart and respiration rates to go down.
Twinkle, twinkle Little Star
With so much time singing it, I started to see the lyrics differently. Georgia was my Little Star, so very brave, and the twinkling of her beautiful eyes was a glimpse into the brightness of her soul.
How I wonder what you are...
When Georgia was younger Kristen used to repeat the story of how on the island of Bali, newborn babies are considered "not of this earth" and aren't allowed to touch the ground until 100 days old. All newborns have that otherworldly essence, but the story seemed particularly applicable to Georgia, and she was a constant source of wonder from birth through her last days.
Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky
On the day she was diagnosed with SMA, I told Kristen that I felt somehow that Georgia had the soul of a traveler. She was here to experience life with us, to bask in our love and to bring us unexpected joy. And while she could only stay for a short time we could take comfort in knowing that she was moving on to continue her journey, her purpose.
Goodbye, little star. Thank you for the light you left us: for shining, for guiding, for being you. And good luck -- wherever your heavenly orbit takes you.
(note: cross-posted with Kristen's post below)
8 Years an Angel
2 weeks ago