The love that I have for my niece is something that I hold dear. I cherish her beyond explanation.
It something that is strong enough to survive time and separation.
Keeping records, writing letters, making phone calls, it’s not enough.
I have to find ways to show her that I keep her with me, that I really do love her and miss her, and need her in my life.
She is my everything, and even though she doesn’t know that right now, one day she will.
A few months after she was born, I started making her a scrapbook.
I wanted to give her something that I made with love, something she could keep and read through to “get to know me.”
I put love and attention into every detail, each page taking hours to make.
I have to reach her through each page, hoping that her heart will find the place that mine is.
I have to find the right expressions and the right words to convey how I feel, which is hard to do when you’re so hurt. It has taken me through two very dramatic stages. A stage where I cried, screamed, got dizzy and sick with anxiety in such a loud way that I’m sure the neighbors heard. And the stage I seem to be stuck in now. I can barely even speak and the only sounds are my tears falling down on the paper I’m writing on.
It’s not your ordinary scrapbook, thrown together by someone who loves stickers and embellishments.
It’s a record of love, of patience, of hope. It’s something beautiful that I can share with her, nothing negative like the rest of the case and all the paperwork. Faith on paper, the deepest of my love poured out just for her.
Each page is special. Each page means I’m here waiting for her. Each page is a piece of my heart’s puzzle.