Katie Lynn: year 3

Katie Lynn.

This is usually where I write to Craig, mostly so I remember to document our story. But you’ve been on my mind a lot lately and I wanted to write.

Your family misses you. ❤️

They are my world, and I love them with my whole heart. But there’s a deep ache, watching them walk through grieving the loss of a mama and a wife, and walking alongside them in that grief as best as I can.

This weekend marks three years since they last saw you.

You should know, Bailey is so tall, and her feet are as big as mine. People tell me she looks exactly like you did at her age. She’s creative and loves to color and make things, and she’s the very hardest worker. Tea parties and cooking lessons and quality time are her favorite.

Jensen reads like a whiz and loves to style his hair. He has such a soft heart, and he’s got a curious, technical mind. He likes to dress in jeans, collared shirts and cowboy boots, and he can recognize almost any car just by its lines and the shape of its headlights.

Hudson is a ball of energy and sweetness and hilarity. He sings nonstop, shouts “love you!” on a regular basis during the day, and has the imagination to make any random stick into some kind of weapon. He spends many days dressed up as a cowboy and would snack all day if we let him.

Craig never ceases to amaze me. He’s walked through pain I can’t fathom in losing you, and there are still days when that grief feels deep and fresh. But instead of becoming closed and hard, he’s the most generous person I know. He is the instigator of most of our spontaneous family fun, and he’s usually the one to begin the dance parties in the kitchen. He even eats brussel sprouts now, believe it or not.

Bailey came up to me last week after our family tea party. She was all dressed up and beautiful, and when all the boys left the kitchen, her face crumpled and she asked me why you had to go so soon. I don’t know. I know I’d give a lot for my little family not to feel such grief. I know this world is broken, and I know I’m grateful God is still able to make beautiful things out of broken things. But I don’t know why you had to go so soon.

A friend sent this quote to me recently, and it comes to mind a lot right now. “A child born to another woman calls me mom. The depth of that tragedy and the magnitude of that privilege are not lost on me.”

I wanted you to know how they’re doing, and that they miss you. That we got flowers to honor you on Mother’s Day, that we use your bright red teapot all the time, that I think of you every time I use lavender oil. Craig says you once told him it could fix anything, including a gunshot wound. 😂

And I wanted you to know that I will do my very best to take care of these kids and this man. I’m not perfect at it, but I love them more than I can say. They filled a big hole in my heart. And it may sound strange to say, but I look forward to meeting you and hugging you someday. ❤️