Tim and I are just coming home from seeing Cara one last time before our trip. As we started the climb up the hill to her grave, there was a roll of thunder behind us.
Cara shouldn't be outside, it's about to storm.
My maternal instinct set in. But all I could do was stand beside her grave and cry. There was a storm coming and nothing I could physically do would protect my little baby from it. She was outside, exposed, by a tree.
Tim always reminds me that she isn't really there. It's in those moments that I ask her to watch out for us and tell her mom and dad love her so much.