For Corrie’s Ninth Birthday

The sign I ordered for Corrie’s garden in spring 2022.

Each year, we honor Corrie’s birthday in a small celebration with friends.

John bought this Corrie statue with her bench for my birthday, which comes two weeks before Corrie’s Angel Anniversary.

Last night, December 9, was the first time we’d hosted it on the farm.

I planted several Spanish and Phenomenal Lavender plants, and I especially proud of this one.

Our son, Hayes, asked me on Friday, “What are you getting for Corrie’s birthday?”

He understands Corrie’s birthday celebrations are different, and every Christmas, he asks for his sister back, although he knows there is nothing any of us can do.

The march of time after Corrie’s graduation to heaven remains hard because all of us want her here. It’s also hard because, at three-and-a-half years since her death, this time marks half of her life.

But her birthday offers us the chance to celebrate the life she did live.

One of five azaleas does beautifully around a tree after I transplanted it from the Butterfly Garden in the spring.

What do you buy or get to honor your child who dwells in heaven?

I explained to Hayes that it’s not like buying him something, which he understands, but asks anyways. I told him that I bought plants through the year, started her Arendelle Garden, and put lights up in each garden to mark the memory of her light in the world.

Through the smoke left over from the fire started by our neighbor on Thursday, Corrie’s angel still shines bright in her Butterfly Garden.

John put up this nativity scene my Mom bought last year as another way to honor Corrie.

A gift Corrie has offered me in the years, since her death is a reverence for nature, an ability to forgive and make peace instead of hanging on to anger, and creativity to put my pain into gardens, the trees and wreaths I make, and when I want to, writing. The truth is I don’t write anywhere as much as I used to because I’m far more active with a vision for this farm and my children’s legacy here–not just Corrie’s but Hayes.’

I’ve written stories and poems, since I could write, and I have one YA novel and a memoir to finish. My writing has transitioned from a lot of the poetry I wrote in the two years following her death to more narrative/ memoir, which is what I wrote most of before she left us.

I think the transition is because I’ve found a way for Corrie to continue to live on through the gardens, and not feel like I’m making conversation awkward if I talk about my daughter. But I’d like to think I’ve given my daughter an extended legacy on this farm through the lights, gardens and love her family shines.

The area of the Arendelle Garden where I planted a few evergreens, and spread lights across the middle.

When I look up from Arendelle, I have a clear view of the mountain. It also reminds me of heaven.

As a bereaved parent, I’m not in a state where I’ll cry on someone’s shoulder, unhappy, or should be pitied. Certainly, I have those moments where I wake up, and it feels like the day after she died, but it’s not as often.

A holly I planted last November, which is blooming now. I call this one Corrie’s Christmas tree, but she has so many now.

Corrie brought so much light to the world in her five-and-a-half years, leaving us with many sayings–more than some might come up with in a longer lifetime. While I’m still working on her ninth birthday poem, I’m proud to reflect on her birthday, angel anniversary, and legacy presents all around the yard, or the Christmas trees I create for others.