Yesterday a year ago, I wrote this :
Today was amazing. Thank you to everyone who shared in it. While it was so sad, our celebration of Mia's life could not have been more perfect. The sun shone, the autumn leaves gleamed, and the world gloried in the life of our red-headed child. She was surrounded by so much love, and for that I will be forever grateful.
MrMia and I talked about it yesterday morning, and really feel that there is not a thing we would have done differently. He gave the most beautiful eulogy ever, and I often go back and read it, as the words so perfectly depict our love for Mia.
I have posted parts of it here too, but I'd very much like to share it in its entirety with you, on this Mia-bright autumn day, if only as a way of thanking you for the love and friendship you have shown to me over this past terrible year.
Thank you all so much for the unwavering love and support that you have shown Miasmummy and I at this terrible time. We know that in her short but brilliant life Mia has touched each of you and we know that our grief and our desperate loss are shared by all of you.
Miasmummy frequently instructed me when I left home not be a ?daddy bore?, I know that I was, and I make no apology for it. Talking about our darling Mia - what new ability she had discovered, talking about how she was growing and changing, or just how much, with one small, crooked smile, she made our world such an amazing and happy place ? talking about Mia is just something that you all know I love doing.
There are so many wonderful things about our little Mia that deserve to be shared with you, yet today, sadly, eloquence escapes me.
In some ways, today may be easier than the days ahead, we have you all here to celebrate Mia. It is in the days to come that we will need your love and friendship the most, when the world continues, and we struggle to find our way. The axis of our world has disappeared, and so has our direction and will. Please do be direct in your offers of support, as we can?t yet tell you what we need. Come up with ideas ? we will say yes or no. Above all, please don?t hide your children away or feel awkward in talking about your joy in them with us. We know you love them, and we are happy for you.
Each night when Miasmummy and I would go to bed one way or another Mia always ended up snuggled between us. Finding solace, the soft warm cheeks of her little face would be pressed firmly into her mum?s neck, I being left with her other soft, and often fragrant, cheeks pressed into mine.
We would wake each morning and, after some happy juice, Mia would crawl around our bed delighting in her physicality, climbing over us, playing peek-a-boo under the covers, dashing back to give us open mouth kisses on the chin, burrowing her head into our faces. The playfullness she showed at being able to point to her belly button, blow raspberries on our stomachs or clap her hands was intense. She was always busy, always exploring, always happy.
Breakfast, indeed any meal, was a delight for Mia. Many of you have commented how she loved her food, both in variety and quantity. But Mia was also so generous with her food, she loved nothing better than to reach out, giggle and place some small, cherished morsel in your mouth. This affection for sharing food was innate, like so many of Mia?s wonderful qualities she gained it directly from her mother. Much of her lovingly prepared meals would go straight into Mia?s into mouth, but much would be stored in her bib, painted around her face or rubbed in her beautiful, soft and eccentric, red hair.
Mia?s hair, of which Miasmummy was justifiably so proud was, like our baby, unique. A colour shared with family members on each side, but also all her very own. The trees, in their gorgeous autumnal colours, the reds and golds resonating in the sun, will always remind me of our Mia as will the rustling of leaves that so captivated our little girl on our many walks together. This is why establishing a wood in Mia?s memory, a Mia wood, is so important to us. Planting saplings that will grow and mature over a lifetime, what should have been Mia?s life time, into mighty trees - repaying the care and love invested in them with beauty, a lasting joy to everyone.
I was constantly thrilled by Mia?s perfect tiny gripping hands and at the happy expressive little face that turned and beamed at me with the full force of love when I returned home at the end of the day. But the love and devotion that Miasmummy and Mia shared was an utter joy to behold, a bond unbreakable and eternal, I have witnessed nothing that was more intense or indeed so perfect. I am delighted that they got to share so much, neither could have made more of their time together.
Thanks to Miasmummy, Mia was blessed with such a variety of stimulating activities; from singing, signing and swimming, to just chilling with her precious little friends or staring in awe as her older cousins played around her, her life was a constant whirl of fun. Mia particularly loved her music, playing her triangle, shaking her little egg rattle and bouncing up and down to a song, sometimes in time, but always with delight. She was just beginning to explore creative dance too.
As many of you know, Mia had a staggeringly piercing scream, both discordant and so very loud. We apologise to all of you for this, especially those of you with children to whom she taught this skill. But Mia?s vocabulary was expressive and rich, consisting of songs, squeaks, squeals and belly laughs, as rich as any adult language, especially when combined with her magical pointing ?finger of power? that could bring to her anything she wished for (as long as mummy or daddy was nearby).
We will miss Mia?s cuddles, her weight and her little legs curled around us, her face against our cheeks and her warm arms around our necks, the soothing pats on the back that she would give us as we in turn patted her. She was intimate, coming to us, arms raised, for a reassuring cuddle, but then with a smile, content she would wiggle free, independent and inquisitive about everything around her, exploring her world, looking in cupboards, peeking between the banisters as she climbed the stairs and just revelling in her existence.
Miasmummy says she has tried to estimate how many times a day we kissed Mia. Picking her up, putting her down, dressing her, feeding her, washing her hands, just because? it must have been hundreds. Equally, we always made a point to tell Mia every day just how much we loved her. We know she listened.
I cannot begin to adequately describe the love that we have for our little girl. I can only ask you to imagine the most perfect feeling of love and warmth that you can, to double its intensity, and extend it to infinity and you are still not even close to the amount of love that we shared with Mia every second for the last 13 months.
13 months ? that is just 400 days.
One of our friends, also a mother, told us when Mia was born, to enjoy every moment. Each was precious and fleeting, as she would change and grow so very quickly. We are so glad that we lived, loved and cherished every second of our time with Mia. We will now not get to share any more of Mia?s amazing life, to see her grow, walk, graze her knees, go to school, learn, fall in love and perhaps have children of her own. For all of this we are profoundly sad. But words just cannot express how intensely proud we are to have been her parents and to have known her and loved during her short time with us.
Goodbye our darling.