Anniversaries.

Two years ago, a few months after we lost Evelyn, my husband and I went on a quick getaway. We felt an overwhelming desire to just pack up and leave, but since that’s impractical and we have responsibilities, we planned a short trip to Hocking Hills.

It was July of 2021 and we were both grieving hard. We needed time to get lost in nature and to ask Evelyn for signs that she was okay. We arrived there broken, but hopeful.

On our last day, we were finishing up our hike and crossed over a little bridge. I walked over it and realized that my husband had stopped and was calling my name. I walked back and he was staring at a wooden post at the entrance to the bridge. He held my hand and showed me what was written on the post. I gasped as I read the dates written:

4/19 4/20 4/21

My heart leapt from my body and I burst into tears. These dates, Evie’s dates, were written right here in the middle of the woods three hours from our home. I broke down sobbing there on the path and we knew then that she wanted us to know she was there.

She was everywhere we were.

April 19th was the anniversary of the worst day of my life and the last day I heard the sound of Evelyn’s heartbeat. April 20th was the day my doctor told us that she no longer had a heartbeat. April 21st was the day I gave birth to her.

The anniversaries of these dates hold such meaning for me. The days leading up to this have felt so heavy this year. It’s so painful to remember that two years ago, these were incredibly happy days where a completely different version of myself existed. I can look on a calendar and point to a date where not only my entire world changed, but I changed as a person.

Tomorrow is April 19th, the hardest anniversary. I can’t avoid it, and I have to carry on as usual. On Friday, we will celebrate Evelyn’s birthday. I will write in her birthday card. I will wonder what things she would like if she were here and what kind of party I would have planned for her. I will cry and be angry. I will also smile and be grateful that she’s mine.

I will look for signs.