Michaela, I know some of these things might scare you, so I promise that if you come home if you don't want to see anybody, you don't have to. If you don't want to be touched, nobody will touch you. But I want you to know what it is here, waiting for you, all this love, all this healing from the fear, the grief, the loneliness of the past 26 years. I myself want nothing more than to wrap my arms around
|Michaela, this is your baby brother Robbie, and your|
sisters, Johnna and Ariel, who you have never met,
and to the right, Libby. And me.
It rained this year on the anniversary. That was the first time it has rained on November 19th in all the years we have been doing this, but just a gentle rain. Today the rain came down harder, creating small rivers for awhile in the streets. I remember in the days after you were kidnapped the rains came pouring down, in violent storms, like the skies were weeping for you.
Well, for now Michaela, I am sending you a virtual hug, reaching across time and space, and just a few photos from November 19, 2014.
Love you forever, baby girl.
|Robbie hung some ribbons high on the tree.|
I cut most of the ribbons long. To me, it reminds me
of weeping. Our tears for you.
|Michaela, do you remember your friend Isa?|
She came to the anniversary, and
brought her little daughter.
|Ribbons. And my car. I call it my little road warrior.|
It is waiting to take you wherever you want to go!
|Ribbons from years past.|
Time may fade them but they hang strong.
Like our hope.