My, my. Me, oh my. Looks like I kept my promise to keep you in suspense for another five months. Truth be told, I’ve tried to start an entry a few times and just couldn’t seem to find the words to describe the past few months. I don’t know that the right words exist. At any rate, I guess I’m going to give it a shot.

The weeks following my last entry were normal enough. Amanda’s fifth birthday, Christmas, the ongoing discussion about whether or not Santa Claus should be part of Christmas next year – you know, the usual stuff. To be honest, I don’t remember a great deal about January. I imagine it was probably cold and gray for the most part. Oh, wait; I do remember something. Logan received a call to serve as the bishop of our ward. See, I KNEW something happened! That necessitated my release as Stake YW President (I’d been serving in that capacity for 2 ½ years, and as a counselor for more than a year previous to that). In terms of the impact on our family, it hasn’t been a huge shift. There are weeks where things seem to be a bit crazy, but it’s okay for the most part.

So that brings us to February. In February, everything changed. I’m not going to go into any detailed account; most of you are already aware of what happened to Logan’s brother’s family. If you’re not, you can go here.

So now’s the part where the writer’s block sets in. I get up to this point and don’t know what to say anymore. I miss those little girls. I don’t wish to go into any long diatribe about my feelings or my sadness; somehow it seems an affront to Nathan and Brenda and what they’ve been forced to deal with, if that makes any sense. I’ll just share this one change in my perspective…

As a way to remember Rebecca and Rachel, Nathan has posted photos and memories of them on Facebook and on the family’s blog. This entry in particular is significant to me, and here’s why:

Months ago, Amanda came to me and asked if we could go to the beach. “Sure we can, “ I answered absentmindedly. That seemed to appease her, and I didn’t hear about it again until a few weeks later: “Can we go see the ocean?” “Yeah, that sounds like fun. We’ll have to plan that sometime,” I said. Pretty much the same vague response I gave the first time. Over the next few months, I’d hear about the ocean or the beach sporadically – and each time, I’d blow her off in some gentle way or another.

And then February came.

Sifting through some of Nathan and Brenda’s photos after the girls’ funeral, I came across a photo of Rebecca standing in the water on their “Beach Day.” I wept when I saw that photo. It suddenly dawned on me that four-year-old Rebecca had seen the beach, but four-year-old Amanda never did – and never would, because four-year-old Amanda had been replaced by five-year-old Amanda. I felt that I’d lost a child not in the tragic and life-altering way that some parents suffer, but in the quiet and unremarkable way that most of us lose our children without even realizing it: to the simple passage of time.

And so, on April 5^th, we piled into the van with an arsenal of snacks and DVDs and started driving. We battled wind and rain storms, countless bathroom stops, drowsiness, parking woes and 1300 or so miles on the ol’ odometer…but in the end, we got this:

I will never, ever regret taking this impromptu trip to San Diego. When Logan and I look at these photos in 30 years, we’re not going to remember that I spent over 24 hours in a van at 7 ½ months pregnant, or that he had to take extra time away from church and work responsibilities. We’re only going to remember this:

Nothing else matters.