I was thinking today about her last days with us. She was hallucinating and she kept asking me if I could see the little girl in the picture. The little girl was beckoning her to follow her on a path through the flowers and tall grass. It's actually a beautiful image and as I think about it now, I am able to see that the little girl was her and that she was beckoning Anitra home to safety.
To be clear, there was a painting with flowers and a path and a beautiful sky. There was not a little girl in the painting, and there certainly wasn't anyone beckoning her. It was terrifying to her. She believed that the nurses were lying when they said there wasn't anyone in the painting and that the painting wasn't moving. She wanted so badly for me to be able to see it. I couldn't see it then but I can now.
I believe that when Anitra took her life, God never left her side. I believe that she was in peace from the moment she decided to end her life and that it was not scary or painful for her. It's possible that I'm wrong, but I don't think so. Maybe I need it to be that way, maybe it was that way.
I miss her. I miss her laugh. I miss her energy. The laughter and energy when she was well. Those fleeting moments towards the end of her life when her world wasn't dark and scary.
I think about how much life I have left to live. I thought about how at the end of my life, it won't be sad because I think she'll be there, waiting for me on the other side. She'll be a beautiful, youthful blonde girl, hopping up and down and will give me a hug and maybe, just maybe, not want to let go of me. She'll introduce me to Jesus and she'll be with me to greet my babies that have gone before me.
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