On Sunday there was a problem with my computer so we took it in to be looked at. The technician’s diagnosis was about as good as I could have hoped for – my computer could be fixed relatively inexpensively and be back to me in a week – but as we left the store I was nonetheless angry and raw with emotion. It only took a couple minutes for me to realize I was acting like one of those cliched characters in the movies who throw a fit over something seemingly inconsequential because, in actuality, they’re broken up over something much, much larger.
April 7th had been approaching for a while and I’d been dreading it even more than usual. A big reason for this is because, in some ways, it’s harder to face the pain of that day now than it was in the beginning. I say this because, while the pain in the days after Maddie passed away was overwhelming, people expected me to be overwhelmed. Now, four years later, I can’t let myself be overwhelmed. I have too many responsibilities in this new life I’ve pieced together – not the least of which is a three-year-old who needs to be taken care of on April 7th as much as the other 364 days of the year. Keeping it together while coping with this loss is always incredibly debilitating, but no more than on April 7th.
Still, I wouldn’t wish the pain away because – as messed up as it sounds – it’s one of the few remaining connections I have to Maddie. The only thing more painful than coping with Maddie’s loss is imagining that she will be forgotten; that she will turn into a part of our life that used to be as opposed to being a part of the one that is.
A couple weeks ago a stylist at SuperCuts asked me if the new baby would be our second, and I nodded because I didn’t want to ruin her day. I don’t think I’d ever done that before. In the past I would have made a point of mentioning Maddie. I felt terrible afterward, and even hours later I had the urge to drive back and tell her this would, in fact, be our third child. I wanted to tell her that our first child, Madeline, was an amazing, beautiful, unfailingly sweet little girl who I loved more than anything I ever thought possible. I wanted to tell her that Maddie… was here.
It’s a nasty trick the way time moves on. My memories of my life with Maddie have begun to fade no matter how hard I try to cling to them, the world Maddie and I knew slowly falls away (I no longer live in the same home we lived in, for example), and more and more people enter my life who never knew her.
Luckily, our friends and family were great on Sunday. We received flowers, emails, texts, tweets, Facebook messages, and donations to Friends of Maddie and our March of Dimes team. All of these things made me feel like Maddie was a little bit closer, and for that I am grateful.
I did my part to bring Maddie a little closer, too. When Annie was asleep, and the responsibilities of the day were done, I closed my eyes and meditated on my little Maddie Moo. I tried not to think about that April 7th, and instead focused on the days we spent together. One memory I especially savored was of coming home from work in the evenings and seeing Maddie light up and shimmy toward me, squealing. Those were beautiful moments, and I could almost see them in my mind just as they happened.. almost.
Daddy loves you, little girl. Forever and ever.
Kelly Bergin says:
Mike, this was a beautiful, well-written post. I especially loved the line “It’s a nasty trick how time moves on.” You are a gifted writer.
There’s nothing else I can say except I’m deeply moved and care about Maddie and Annabel as if they were any other children in my life. Being at Annie’s birthday party reminded me of how kind and open you guys are: not only online, but in real life too.
For the little girl with bright eyes and a toothy grin, I think living your lives fully is the most honorable way to remember her.
Love to you all,
Kelly
Katrina says:
I think of Maddie all the time. And I’ve never met her. But yet I know she was here, and I know how much she was loved. And I know how much she is missed, every single day, by those who loved her most. I truly DO think of and remember your little girl, in so many different ways. When I see something in a vivid color purple, I think of her. When I hear the name “Alice” (like in the movie Twilight!) I think of her. When I hear the March of Dimes mentioned, I think of her. And sometimes random things will spark a memory of her. And I didn’t even know her, except through this blog. I don’t think she will ever be forgotten — not by me, and not by anyone who has come to know her, even if only through this blog. And I can’t remember who said it, but a long time ago in one of the comments, I think it was Heather who was writing about the number seven, how she hated when the 7th of each month came around. And everyone wrote supportive and understanding things in the comment section, and I read them all. But what stood out to me the most was one commenter, and I forget who it was, but she said, simply: SUCK IT, SEVEN!!! and now, when I hear the word “seven” I swear that’s what I say in my mind. I say, “Suck it, Seven!!” and I smile, and I think of Maddie. I really do.
I’m sorry, as always, for the sadness in your heart that you live with every day. I know it will never go away, because for it to go away you would have to forget about Maddie…and you never will. You never will.
Lydia says:
I decided to leave a comment today for Mike but thought I’d read the ones already left before I wrote mine. I don’t think I can say things any better than you have, Katrina. I want Mike and Heather to know that I think of Maddie often. Like you, there are certain things I hear or see and Madeline Alice comes straight to mind. And I never even met her. – Mike, there are so many of us that will never forget. Your memories fade (which is hard, I’m sure) but Maddie will always be part of this life right now. Thank you for sharing so much of yourself and a big thank you for sharing Miss Maddie. I honestly feel blessed because I “know” her.
Paula says:
So many have said and will continue to say one simple thing: Maddie has touched hearts all around this world of ours. The colour purple reminds me of her sweet smile and those sparkly eyes. If all we can do is share your grief and honour her memory in our different ways, then hopefully that might bring a small measure of comfort. My three year old daughter and I planted a purple garden and I told her a little about how special Annie’s big sister was.
Jenn says:
I will NEVER forget Mike!!! How could I? Not only have yourself & Heather touched my heart & soul but thanks to
Your memories, so has MADDIE ( Annie too). I am & ALWAYS will be grateful & blessed to know you all!!! Sending you Frienship, much Love & my endless support!!! xoxo
Lis D says:
There’s no way Maddie will be forgotten, because there’s so many anonymous people out here remembering her with you–and remembering you with her. As the father of three. For every single person that asks how many kids, you have another handful who already know.
Auntie_M says:
Maddie can never, ever be forgotten – she has touched too many lives for that to happen. I never had the pleasure of meeting Maddie in person, but through the eloquent writings of you and Heather, and the many pictures and videos, she is very real and unforgettable.
My only wish is that she were still here with you and Heather and that you & your families had never known the bitter heartache of losing her.
Please know you are surrounded by the love of so many who love & grieve over your sweet Madeline alongside you.
Here in Washington, Spring is just starting to burst forth– garbing itself in so many shades of purple & yellow, as if remembering Maddie too. Purples as that is her color and yellow to remind us of the sunshine she brought to the world through those beautiful eyes & enchanting smile.
And Mike, it’s ok if you don’t hold it together all the time. While you may have to be responsible enough to call a friend or family member in order for them to watch Annie for you, if you and/or Heather need to do so so you can “lose it safely” without scaring Annie, then do it. Better to embrace your hollownesssweet or deepness of grief than to ignore it and have it fester.
Sending love & support
Auntie_M says:
Um…my “smart”phone just adds its own random words to things. The above was to simply say “hollowness.”
Auntie_M says:
I wanted to add, don’t fret over how you answered the number of children question…my philosophy is
1) those who truly matter, already know the truth
2) however you answer, you know the true number & your absolute love for Maddie isn’t changed by what you say…therefore you can never dishonor Maddie with your answers
3) You said you didn’t want to “bum out” the girl, but I think equally, not everyone / situation can handle the truth about childloss with the honor & respect those children and their stories deserve. Perhaps your soul sensed that it was maybe not the time, or place, or person that would give Maddie’s life/story the honor it is due.
Regardless, do not beat yourself up over this.
Amanda says:
Maddie will never, ever be forgotten. Please know that.
Kim says:
We hit 10 years in August – I so understand this post. Time marches on, but your heart doesn’t. Now that my kids are in school we usually have back to school day or the first day of school on Emma’s day. It is so hard. It is hard to find the balance between my grief and my children’s needs. It is something I am trying to find, it is a daily balancing act. You, Heather, Maddie, Annie and the baby are so very loved. I think of you all often, especially in April and November. Maddie is not forgotten. She will never be forgotten.
Lisa says:
Much love to you, Mike. Maddie is often in my mind and I will never forget the sweet little girl you and Heather shared with us, who touched my heart.
Sonya says:
Your sweet Maddie Moo will never be forgotten Mike. Hugs to you and Heather both.
PattyB says:
A simply beautiful tribue, for your simply beautiful angel. Thoughts and prayers are with you and your family today, cyber friend.
Christina says:
You guys have done such an amazing job at keeping Maddie’s memory alive and sharing her with all of us. That, plus her natural charisma in the photos, the videos, the stories… not mentioning her to just one person can’t diminish that. I know I will never forget her.
Trisha says:
Loved and remembered always. She was so special and such a spark with those adoring eyes, it was like she was lit from the inside.
I only came to know you and Heather on the day after Maddie passed away through the MOD. You are both amazing and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing all your rawest feelings with us. You’ve both given so much enrichment to my life and how I live and love my children. Thank you!
Sarah says:
I understand somewhat how you feel when it comes to telling strangers about your lost loved one. My 19-year-old sister died in a car accident when I was 12. When meeting new people, if I was asked about my siblings, I’d be torn between telling them I had two sisters or I just had one, because it didn’t feel right to leave her out, but it was also undesirable to have to explain that one had died (and never what the question-asker had bargained for). I think it’s understandable to not want to talk about it with a stranger – and to feel guilty about that. But you have never wavered in your love and remembrance of Maddie. Don’t feel bad.
Tara says:
It’s so hard to know what to say Mike…Maddie will never be forgotten by any of us. Even those of us that never had the honor of knowing her personally. My heart aches for you guys just as much today as it did for you 4 years ago. I am just so terribly sorry that you and Heather have to live through this pain. I think you are still allowed to be overwhelmed on this date each year. People understand. I have a friend who lost her toddler daughter over 25 years ago, and she still takes that day each year to remember her and cry. We all understand that pain does not just disappear as the years go by.
Molly says:
I get what you mean about how you said the pain you feel is one of the few remaining connections you have to Maddie. Thanks for articulating that.
Amie says:
Maddie will NEVER be forgotten. I think of her often. She’s had a profound impact on my life and I never met her. To think of the impact she had on family and friends that really knew her blows me away. Her life may have been short but it was and is powerful. You should have had more time together. The was a beautiful post.
M says:
Maddie may be physically gone but she is with you, watching over you, Heather, Annie and the acrobat- absolutely with Heather’s aunt and your friend that recenty passed. You will be together again – and it will be wonderful, like no time has passed. Meanwhile, that little angel will never be forgotten on this earth.
Lanie says:
Thank you and Heather for sharing Maddie. Time is so tricky. And so is the life of a bereaved parent. When our first son, Jake, died we did not have any other children to take care of – do the world could and did fall apart. After our 2nd son, Sawyer, died we had twins at home to take care of – meals needed to be made, people needed to get dressed and life went on.
Sending you and Heather hugs and hope today and always. Take care.
P. S. a few months after Jake died new neighbors moved in across the street. The new neighbor aske me if we had any kids. She was pregnant and I quickly replied “no, we don’t have kids.” I waited up all night to go tell the neighbor about Jake and that we did have a son. I don’t think I would have gone back to explain myself if our neighbor was not someone we would see on a regular basis (like the super cuts lady).
Kristen says:
Like many here have said, so many of us whom you don’t know nor never will have been touched by your sweet Maddie. She reminds me of how fleeting and precious this thing called life is. Love from Madison, WI.
Lynn says:
Hugs to you all…Our April 7th is December 24th it’s so hard
Amy says:
I assure you Maddie has touched countless people and will NEVER be forgotten.
JT says:
Others have said it, but I want to say it to. Maddie will be remembered. Please always know that.
Kelly says:
So much love to you Mike. You are a wonderful father.
As someone who has lived without a loving dad, I can tell you that reading about your life with Maddie and then with Annie and soon with your son too is such a beautiful gift to your readers. A father’s voice is often under-represented in our culture where it is safer for men to talk about careers or sports or politics. Feelings, especially the pain of this most profound loss, are terribly difficult things for anyone to have to survive, let alone to share with the world. I admire your courage to do so. I know it is the love you hold for your children that makes you so brave.
The way you are able to write about the little details of a day, the way Madeline lit up when you arrived home, the fears you had and have about how to be the best father to your children, all these moments with your family and your reflections on your relationships with them are shared so generously. I hope that you know that so many of us recognize each post as a gift and, in a way, a beautiful legacy of Maddie’s as she helped both you and Heather to become the wonderful, loving, honest parents that you are. She should be with you now and forever.
Cathy says:
I think of Maddie often. And I’ve never really known her. I came to this blog in the days immediately following her passing through the support I read on several other blogs in those days. But, I think of her; occasionally I dream of her. It would never EVER ruin my day to hear a father speak honestly about all of his children and the loss he feels for one, if that helps. I would be honored to listen and offer compassion and understanding.
I guess I am trying to give you permission from the world to feel however you feel and say whatever you want and act however you need to, without judgement or reproach, four years later, or forty years later.
Alexandria says:
I think a nice way to say you have 2 and one Angel…. thats what she is an Angel.
Alexandria says:
hugs to you Mike and Heather and Annabel
Norma says:
Mike,
I’ve been a faithful follower for a long time. Maddie will NEVER be forgotten you both have shared her so beautifully with the world and for that I thank you. I think of her often and say little prayers for your wonderful family. Time is meant to heal but don’t worry she will be in a lot of people’s heart forever.
Cheryl says:
I just came across your blog and have to say that how beautiful it is. Everyone else has expressed their condolences so well that there is nothing I can add, except that I would like to say that Maddie is/was the most beautiful little girl. Such exquisite features and expressions. It is easy to see she was well-loved and very loving in return. Thank you for sharing her with us.
FyshWyfe says:
I want you guys to know that I think of Maddie quite often. I’m in Texas, we’ve clearly never met, but I’ve been reading your blog for years. Sometimes when I see a particularly vivid shade of purple I find myself thinking, “I bet Maddie would have liked that.” And when I give to the March of Dimes, I always think, “For Maddie.”