Comments on: Read and Blue.

By: jen

jen — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 03:18:03 +0000

i love this tribute to the day after … and after that … and after that …
’cause it’s really all about being here … for whoever needs us … whenever they need us …
and remembering … and if it takes more purple shirts or the planting of purple flowers so that i see them every morning … i’ll do it.

By: Sarah@ BecomingSarah

Sarah@ BecomingSarah — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 16:15:49 +0000

I think this is such a beautiful post. I wish more people wore purple on the day after. I wish I’d thought of it.

By: Jacki

Jacki — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 23:01:05 +0000

It’s very nice of you to keep remembering. I’ve just recently lost someone and have found that grief is so very lonely.
Cute pic of the two of you! (She’s getting so BIG!!!)

By: cindy w

cindy w — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 17:55:11 +0000

My cousin died at 19 years old of cystic fibrosis. My uncle (her father) said that he’s just now getting to a place where he doesn’t feel as though he’s actively grieving on a daily basis. She died in 2004. It takes a LONG time, I think was his point.

I think the really great thing about our little online community is that we aren’t going to let Heather & Mike ever think that we’ve forgotten, because there’s always an open dialogue among us. We’ll talk about Maddie next month on Mother’s Day, the month after that on Father’s Day, on her birthday in November, and all of the other important occasions that really matter to them.

And I’m also adding more purple to my wardrobe. Luckily it’s a good color on me.

By: Marcie

Marcie — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 14:09:56 +0000

Aaaaaah, Simone is such a cutie, I love that expression she’s got.

It’s true, after a funeral, it seems everything abruptly stops for the grieving family. People stop calling, no more cards, flowers, visits. It’s important to keep it rolling afterwards, too. When everything dies down is when the reality really sets in.

By: Carmen

Carmen — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 04:03:44 +0000

Absolutely lovely photo. I can’t and will not say anything about that beautiful little girl, Maddie, because if I do it will open up something I never want opened in my heart. I can’t even wrap my mind around it… I have my own little precious baby girl, fourteen months old, and I can’t imagine how Heather feels. I just offer what I can, my deepest sympathy for Maddie and her family.

By: suz

suz — Fri, 17 Apr 2009 01:40:16 +0000

I also thought perhaps I was strange for becoming so immediately transfixed by Maddie Spohr and the Spohrs’ story. I only just found them through your initial post. There just was something about Madeline. I sob every time I watch Heather’s tribute video, and for some masochistic reason I keep watching it. It does not seem real to me that the lovely, charming baby in that video is not alive, playing with her family.

I am so glad you and Simone are back. This is one of my favorite blogs — a part of my daily routine. Your kind words and that sweet picture are a balm for the intense sadness that, for whatever reason, I feel over the death of a baby I never met and the pain that her parents are enduring.

Also, you have awesome commenters. Well said, duck_jb.

By: amanda

amanda — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 23:18:58 +0000

A Bereaved Parent’s Wish List, courtesy of the website Families of Spinal Muscular Atrophy.

http://www.fsma.org/FSMACommunity/GriefLoss/griefandlossfiles/index.cfm?ID=2432&TYPE=1312

By: Toni

Toni — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 21:07:35 +0000

Actually, what had me in absolute sobs was Dad’s tribute to his daughter.

By: cindy

cindy — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 20:05:41 +0000

There is a cool song called Start Wearing Purple by Gogol Bordello.

It is terribly heartbreaking about Maddie. There really are no words.