Who tells your story?

One thing that sucks about grieving Audrey is doing things with Hannah that Audrey never got to do.  There are things that Audrey attempted, but never quite got, like riding a horse. Audrey took therapeutic riding lessons alongside Hannah. We tried everything to get Audrey on horseback, like bringing Hannah's child size Maximus toy that Audrey always rode on at the house to convince her to get on the real thing. She ended up enjoying shovelling horse poop with a friend, and loved the whole horse experience, just never got on the horse. Those types of memories I am sure will be much easier to take than other memories conjured by Hannah's accomplishments. I can only imagine that high school graduation will be an amazing memory and a terrifying moment all in one. But, as I have for the last 19 months, I take things day by day. And on this day, Hannah is experiencing something that Audrey experienced first.

When Audrey was six months old, Amanda had a conference in DC. She didn't want to leave without Audrey, so I tagged along while Hannah stayed with Grandma Char and Grandpa Dan.    

We flew in late on Wednesday, October 10 2018. We got in, and got the crib set up and Audrey went to bed. On Thursday, we did everything together. We started off going to the National Portrait Gallery,  and the National Archives. We did American History together and Audrey played at the toddler spot in the museum. After we played together, I changed Audrey and put her in the baby carrier. We left AH and headed towards the then just opened African American History Museum. On our way, we took one of my favorite pictures of Audrey and I from her first year.  Its not very often that Audrey got to do something before her sister did, but that week, we did everything together. And that picture reminded me that it was different than most times when she followed her sister.

This trip to the memorial was different as Hannah and Amanda joined me. I had Hannah and Amanda take a similar picture for me.

On every vacation that we have taken since Audrey has passed, we left a pair of her shoes to pass on to a parent to use them for their child. We did something differently this trip, as this trip was different for the sisters. We did not leave her shoes in DC, because Audrey had already left her footsteps here.  Hannah placed Audrey's memorial stone at the corner of the Washington Monument.

My brain rushed through memories as I saw this, and I thought of the only song that I know that mentions the Washington Memorial. I started humming the 2015 closing song from Hamilton. While I was singing the words " I raise funds in DC for the Washington Monument" in my head, I started thinking about the line "Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?"

I can't compare myself to Eliza Hamilton because she had years of service to the capital, her husband's legacy, the first private orphanage in NYC. Over 19 months, I have stumbled at doing some things, but I joined the board of an organization close to Audrey's heart, I volunteer in her name for other special needs organizations, I raised money for epilepsy research, and I tell her story.

It was our first trip after Audrey passed that we dropped off her boots in Central Park. But 2 days before that, we visited Trinity Church in old section of Manhattan, and Hannah lit a candle for Audrey before she visited Alexander, Eliza and Angelica at the cemetery outside the worship hall. I didn't know it then, but we were telling her story.

After the Washington memorial, we hopped on scooters and went to the Lincoln Memorial. The last time we went to the Lincoln Memorial, we were both in awe of Lincoln's speeches. To the South of the 19 foot tall Lincoln is the Gettysburg Address and to the North wall is plastered the words of his second inaugural address. We took minutes, and as I read every word, I read them quietly out loud. As we left the memorial, I reminded Amanda that Lincoln is a part of "the club". The club I am referring to is the club that no parents sign up for, the one for parents who have lost a child. Alexander Hamilton is also part of this club.

A few weeks ago, I started writing more to Audrey in her journal than to this blog. The reason I thought of at the time was to be closer to her than to just retell what others must think is a stale story. But I put myself back in the narrative, and I tell her story. Because is what most bereaved parents want. To tell their kid's stories.  

I wrote everything above this last night. This morning, I rented a bike and rode to the mall, eventually ending at the Lincoln Memorial. When I looked at the Washington Memorial past the reflecting pool, I thought about Audrey. I hopped off the bike and lodged it into a nearby bike stand. I turned off the audiobook I was listening to, and refined my iphone camera search with the parameters "videos" and "Audrey". I had 236 videos pop up. 10 of those have videos have Audrey's face in them on a shirt or are videos of news stories done on Audrey- so starting on video number 11, I put my phone in my left hand, and I swiped right after each video was done and kept scrolling through Audrey's voice.

Which brings me back to wanting to tell Audrey's story. Her story is one of a child who has so much to say. As I listened to many videos on my two mile run back to the hotel, I giggled at some of Audrey's phrases. When there was a silence or prompting from Amanda or I, I knew that it was an seizure video meant for her neurologists, and I swiped and didn't wait to hear the rest of silence. Audrey said a lot with her 50 or so words. And that's just one of her stories that I want to keep on telling and keeping her flame alive.