Dear Janddy,

Dear Janddy: 

These are the hardest black words I ever had to put on a white screen.  These are the hardest thoughts that ever came to me.  When I laugh, when I smile, it feels so hallow, but then I know, that’s what you would want from me.  I see your picture and I wonder if this is all a nightmare.  Our hearts are broken and our mother’s cries burn every single piece that erupted, while our father’s tears drown us in an ocean of numbness.   Never before did I know what pain meant.  I have been sad in the past, but this is a foreign feeling of emptiness.  I miss you.  We miss you.  We need you.  

And I wonder, if this pain in our chest will ever go away.  And I question, why would God  give you to us just to take you away.  And I cry and I ask if our body is able to stop breathing, like yours did, then why won’t the tears stop pouring after millions are shed?  And I feel, like I’m running out of air.  Remember when our fish jumped out of his tank?  Now I’m wondering if he too had a sister he lost somewhere.  Nothing makes any sense. Nothing calms the tears that flow like that waterfall we saw in El Yunque.  Remember?  

And its so unfair, that the world keeps turning, when our happiness seems frozen in a dimension where you were skin and flesh.  How can we celebrate Christmas.  Thanksgiving.  Our birthdays.  How can we ever take a family picture again?

And just when I am about to loose control, just when I am about to hyperventilate, I see your smile again and I realize that God gave you to us for 28 years and I would go through all this pain of loosing you even if those years would have been just one day. I am  so glad that we had you to make so many memories with.  For you to teach us so many things.  

Then I look at your son.  Our son.  Josue.  And I see him so handsome and I see him so  big and I thank God that in His mercy, he allowed you to give birth to him.  To feed him as a baby.  To wipe his tears as a toddler.  To guide him as a kid and to always teach him that to give is better than to receive.  I saw him and a beautiful small red bird staring at each other after you left that day.  He pointed the bird out and the bird kept watching him. They seemed to connect.  The bird sat still and Josue smiled amazed.  

Then on Wednesday we went to pick out the location of your grave.  Your grave.  While I was thinking how out of order all of the past week’s events have been.  No one should bury their baby sister, their daughter.  And no son his mother.  Then Josue and our mom saw a white squirrel looking our way.  Josue mentioned, how you used to like looking at them.  How they were always around your house and you loved them.  All these little thing we see as reminders, that you will in fact, will always be there.  

We kept praying and praying for a miracle, not knowing that your miracle was 10,457 days.  The amount of time God allowed us to have you, to kiss you, to hear you laugh.  Ana our Janddy.  Ana our love.  Ana our princess.  Ana our world.  We promise to always love you.  We promise to do the things we always wanted to do with you with your son.  Our son.  We promise that we know, that God knew your fight and that in his mercy, He did what any father would do for the sake of his daughter’s life.  Ana, we appreciate you fighting so hard but we know, that you’re in a perfect place where you will wait for us.  The Bible says that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day, therefore, I hope that for you it will feel like only a five minute wait until we hold each other again.  

In the mean time, we will live like you did, next to God with faith.  And like you always taught us:  with a smile on our face and generously.  

And we serve a God that lost His only Son.  And we serve a God that has also cried.  And we serve a God that knows what it is like to be mad.  To have, a bleeding heart.  Therefore, He knows how much comforting this type of pain demands.  So don’t worry about us, we are in good hands.  

Janddy, Hermana, I only ask you one thing, keep reminding us that you are everywhere and if God gives you a few seconds, please, come in our dreams just to say hey and if it’s not too much to ask for, bring our big sister so that we may know her face.  

Your always,

Amparo, Miriam & Freddy