My precious Gracie was born at high noon on the first day of spring 1999. It was March 21st and she came out so fast the doctor nearly dropped her. What a gift to be so eager to live, is a thought I often have.

Our lives at the time were very busy and rushed, as most of our lives are, but this is of no consequence to a child let alone an infant. Grace was at peace from that spring afternoon until the day she died. We would often receive the observation of her contented nature, it was welcomed, but the credit only belonged to her. This was how Grace was created in her divinity.

Life moves too fast to hold each precious moment as clear as we should. I pine to recount every instant of Grace’s earthly presence by my side, under my wing and at my breast. In my quiet times when I am still enough to hear my heart I can recall the softness of her baby hair under my strong hand and feel her buttery skin, so soft it was if it had the finest powder coating every inch that my hand would glide over the surface unsure if it had made contact.

After a beautiful holiday with loving family, John led the way for Whitaker, Grace and I to Florida. I had never been to this part of the States and it was a welcomed adventure. The drive south from New England was impressive in its transitions from the cold north to the balmy temperature of the Palm Beaches. When we arrived at our little rental on Singer Island my car window was down and I was in awe of the tender air. This was the 29th of December.

The next day we spent as a family shopping for some of the things we would need in our rental. When we had returned from our hunting and gathering we realized we had forgotten a shower curtain. This would have to wait for another time.

The next day was New Years Eve and John went to work and the children and I went to the beach. The beach was a much better option than unpacking and setting up the rental, which may have been a logical choice. That night we joined friends at a holiday gathering in Wellington. We opted to leave early with the rationale that we wanted to get home before all the drunk drivers would be on the road.

Early the next morning John headed to work, as the horses do not celebrate holidays. He left before the children were awake without having the opportunity to say goodbye. I got back into the family bed with them as they lay sleeping. This was to be another great day for the children and I. Later we headed out the door, at a leisurely time, for the beach of course. I observed the holiday by not unpacking. A neighbor stopped us to give us a basket of sand toys her daughters had out-grown, and we were on our way.

It is really incredible how I can remember this day with such photographic recall. Whitaker chased his share of sea gulls and Gracie ate sand and it was an amazing day. On our way home an elderly couple that admired the children stopped us. It was at this time that Grace was eating her first peanut butter and jelly sandwich. By the time we arrived home they were both napping peacefully. I carried them upstairs, laid them down on the bed, and had some rare time to myself, being Whit was 2 ½ and Grace was 9 ½ months old. I did a quick exercise tape, stretched, cooled down and heard Grace call for me.

Grace woke-up first, unusual for her to be the first awake, giving us some cherished one on one time. We had a curtain-less shower and enjoyed it all at leisured pace. I remember calling up my sister-in-law, Stephanie, and talking with her about how incredible everything was, from the weather to the moment I was in. After Whit woke up we prepared dinner, then I nursed Grace leaving enough time for us to get outside once more to take in the last of the luscious first day of the New Year.

I loaded them back into the red double baby jogger and headed out to a little seaside park John had spotted at the foot of The Blue Heron Bridge. We had just enough time to walk around the little park and return home to get the chicken out of the oven, at least this was my plan.

When we got to the little bridge, we were forced to move from the sidewalk into the street to get around the fisherman. Not knowing any thing of fishing I couldn’t understand why they were only on one side with none on the other side. I was not too keen on walking into the street to get around them. When we got to the park I remember stopping to ask a police officer if it was a safe place to be in the evening, he looked at me in a funny way and said, “ Yes ma’am, and I am here”.

I continued our stroll walking close by the waters edge, looking for manatee and watching a dive boat prepare to head out on a night dive. We walked back up to the entrance of the park and I went to the stoplight cross walk and made a very conscious decision to cross to the other side of the bridge, free of fishermen and without another soul as far as I could see.

I pressed the button many times, as was my belief that the more you press the button the faster the light will change. A bit of humoring myself at any rate. When the light changed, I strode briskly across the four lanes, waved at the driver of the car parked at the light, and was then safely on the ‘empty’ side of the bridge. I considered for a moment stopping to watch the light in the sky change on this perfect calm evening. The warm air felt so effortless on my skin and I was thinking I might go down to the little sandy beach in front of me and stare at Peanut Island where President Kennedy had a bunker from the time of The Bay of Pigs conflict.

No, I must return to that chicken in the oven. so I turned my back to the intersection and can recall that the light must have been starting to change in the sky because I could suddenly see the red glow of the stoplight behind me reflected on my hands. The next instant I heard a loud BANG, looked over my left shoulder and saw the same car that had been stopped at the light coming straight for me!

I felt my body lunge forward into a sprint desperate to get out of the way. I pushed the children as fast as I could go and in that frantic moment I felt the car come up off the road and along the left side of my body. The stroller was ripped from my desperate clutches and then everything stopped. Before me, facing me, were Grace and Whitaker.

Whitaker had been on the side of traffic now he was up against the bridge staring at me stunned and Gracie was lying on his lap but her feet were still facing me. I immediately reached down and unbuckled her and scooped her up into my arms. When I held her all I could see was her perfect face but I could feel something no human should. My right hand was inside of her.

This is where my world as I new it ended. This was and is my most horrific moment. This is the moment when my precious Grace was killed by the selfish act of another human being. This is where she was taken from my side, from under my wing, from my breast and where she died.

This is not where the story of my precious Gracie ends. This is only where I was forced to receive my passage into grief in a horrific and tragic way. This was the beginning of what is now a new story of my relationship with my Grace.

This is the first part of my journey through grief. There are many parts, stages and lessons. They are not without painful accounts which I may choose to omit but they most certainly contain Lessons of Grace, which have grown strength in me that I could never have known unless I endured the weight of the pain and seen through the fog of grief which only time and perseverance cleared away.

I hope you will find comfort in my journey, not pain, for the story is mine. Every one of us bears the pain of grief. Each one of our stories is different and uniquely our own.

My vision for the Foundation for Grace is to provide a place for you who suffer from grief, in its many forms, to come find resources to aid you on your personal journey.

RESOURCES

• Forums, to meet others suffering from a similar circumstance
• Calendar of events, to help with your processing
• Weekly inspirations
• Book reviews and recommendations
• Articles of journeys through grief
• Helpful tips to aid others during the immediate time following loss of a loved one
• A place to buy unique, hand crafted memorializing gifts
• A place to voice and share stories
• A place to pray

There will be room for us to grow as we share and expand and embrace new needs to meet and calls to action. This foundation was born from the lessons of my two Grace’s, my Grandmother Grace and her namesake, my Gracie.

This is a website designed as a soft place to come and be….

In your grief.

Love and light, with Grace, Anna