The Blackman Zoo

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

December 14th

December 14th is the one year anniversary of our daughter Maya's death. The last year has been a roller coaster of emotions to get through.
We want to thank everyone who has been there for us. We couldn't have made it through the last year without our family and friends, but most of all a gracious Lord.
We feel blessed to have known such a sweet baby girl, and thank God for every second we spent with her. We would have loved to spend a life time with her, but she awaits us in heaven. We'll see you soon "Sweetpea"! We all love you and miss you!

Mommy and Maya having some cuddle time.

Matthew and Maya

Maya trying to decide if she really wants to wake up.

Maya giving Matthew kisses

Dad, Luke, Maya and Matthew anxiously waiting to go home!! FINALLY!

Maya wishing they would turn the lights off!

One day old, and wondering what all the hype was about this place.

Pictures

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

One more poem

Indigo Night

So cold is the night air,

the snow crunches loudly under my boots;

the sidewalk ice moans

in proxy for the protests in my mind,

and the growing dread in my bones.

It’s rarely a good sign

when the phone rings at 2:00.

Four blocks seems so far,

yet, not far enough

to avoid your last ambulance ride.

The silence throbs with shock waves,

the world moves in slow motion,

when you are gone.

Under a velvet blanket

of indigo sky, I pray

fervent foxhole prayers,

interceding to the whitened light

of a million crystallite stars -

it appears heaven’s nightlight

was left on for you,

that already, celebrating

angels are welcoming you.

From love you came,

to pure Love you must return;

but, for me, I’ve never seen

an indigo night so blue.

~TAMI VRBAS~2006

In memory of my beloved granddaughter,

Maya Michele, who continued her journey

Home on December 14, 2005, at the age of 2 months.

Monday, December 11, 2006

Another poem

In loving memory of

Maya Michelle Blackman

October 14, 2005 – December 14, 2005

If I'd Known Then What I Know Now

I would count each hair on your head,
And memorize each nuance of light,
Dancing on each gossamer strand.
I would store your fresh baby smell in a
Bottle for days of drought without you,
When my memory grows dim;
Future faith blinded my present with you.

If I’d known then what I know now,
Nothing could distract me from watching you
Nestle safe in my arms close to my heart,
Sweet visions skipping on your eyelids,
Sparkly diamonds in morning dew and
Pixie dust reserved just for you.
Order the mundane be silent --
No desire for caution this last day!

If I’d known then what I know now,
I would beg God for just a little more time,

For one last kiss on your velvety cheek,

One more lingering look,
One more breathtaking smile before you go,
Long enough for my solemn promise:
This is not good-bye, my love, it is,
“See you later, my little Sweetpea.”

- Written by “Grandma” Tami Vrbas

Poem

My Mom wrote this poem shortly after Maya died. She recently won first place in a poetry contest with it. The grand prize is $500 and she gets to have it published! She wrote many more poems in the last year and I will post the ones about Maya this week on the blog. Keep checking back for more!

The Sorority No One Wishes To Join
They arrived one at a time,
bearing a casserole dish
or cake in their hands;
these women who have lost a child
came to console a new member.
The dormant debt of compassion
from their own past needed
fulfillment; and so,
with tear-stained cheeks,
those dignified,
Christic women enfolded
her in their arms – knowing –
all that could be done was
to come and to hold and to weep,
to shed their tears together
in compassionate relief.

When she’s ready, she too
will make initiation calls,
holding cake or casserole at
the door in her outstretched hands,
discovering the aching pain
for her child assuaged when she
graces another’s world of grief
with the inherent hope
her presence may bring;
then her pain will subside.
Giving freely what was freely
given, she pays her dues.
Once given the consolation
of shared grief, these survivors
go as God’s hands and feet.

~Tami Vrbas~
c. 2006