White Coat, Clear Tears

Oh Emy. You are deeply missed, right in the center of my heart. I wish I could hold you while your papa receives his white coat today. He could have held you after the ceremony; you would’ve gotten that white coat all messy with your goobers and milk-leftovers. We would have passed you along to all the grandparents– you are the apple of their eye, the sweetest of pies.

Instead of being here in our arms, you are here in our hearts. We feel you on our cheeks when the sun shines so bright. You are the brightest spot, little girl. That’s how we know you’re with us.

Your mama and papa will keep your legacy alive through medicine. We didn’t want to be able to look a parent in the eye after the most devastating moment of their life and be able to say, “we know what you’re going through.” But we do. Our hearts are a thousand times bigger because of you, EmyG.

You made me think my boards prep book was lying to me! For your condition, DiGeorge Syndrome, kidney involvement was not listed as a part of the syndrome. You taught me that I need to go much deeper than the highlight-reel of conditions. You taught me that learning is much more than passing and failing. In your realm of expertise– medicine– it is life and death.

Today, while your papa receives his white coat, we will remember you. Every day we study, every minute we sacrifice, is to make sure we are prepared our very best for this calling. That one day, we will be able to say to a kid without kidneys, “it’s discharge day.” There will be high-highs and low-lows in medical school and beyond, but none of the lows will rival the loss of you. In that, I find comfort. Nothing is more difficult than this, sweet one, so we can carry on. We must carry on. We will carry on. God is with us.