Ivanna Cone

Absolutely delicious. All made in house. And really, Thai Ginger Peanut ice cream?! Amazing.

Sunning

I happened upon these guys sunning themselves while on my morning run.

Waiting for the Hubs

Sitting and reading until Jared gets off from work.

Word of Comfort

It's hard to know what to say. I know that it has been awkward for everyone who knows us. People want to say something, they want to acknowledge our pain, but they're scared of bringing a flood of memories that may hurt us.

Stop worrying. We can imagine how hard it is to know what to say and we appreciate it when people attempt it anyway.

In the weeks after Ryann's death we received a barrage of cards. We read and saved every one of them. Now and then we'll pull out the box and sift through them. Even though there are so many sweet and caring sentiments inside, the biggest thing that we take away is simply the fact that they were sent. That we are not alone in our loss.

One of the most painful things that commonly happens now is that people simply talk to me as if Ryann never existed. I understand why they do this and honestly I wouldn't be surprised if I did the exact same thing if I were in their shoes. It's hard to know what to say. But by not acknowledging that we had this amazing little girl, it feels like she's slowly being erased, which is one of our biggest fears. We do everything we can to keep her memory clear and vibrant and alive.

Some of my favorite cards or notes have been ones that share a specific memory of Ryann. Sometimes these memories are ones that we didn't even know existed until we read them a few weeks ago. Memories of Ryann playing at the farmers' market. Of me rolling her past a friend's house to Jared's class every day. These have been especially sweet, adding little snippets and other dimensions to our own memories.

The day Ryann died, both Jared and I received a Facebook message from my sister's husband, who himself experienced a horrific and sudden family loss recently. That message has continued to buoy me in the aftermath. The message simply conveyed that there is nothing to say, that this is awful, and that he hurt for us. And I knew it was true.

There are no good words to say in situations like this. There is no magic sentence that can be written down if you wrack your brain hard enough. But there is comfort in a reaching hand. In knowing that there are people who remember and cry and hurt with us.

Drawing at the Farmers' Market

Sidekick

Everyone who knew Ryann, knew her dolly.

Conroy's

Conroy's Bakery, a local treasure. I especially love the little apartment on top. Can you imagine how good it must smell?

Collegeview in Lincoln, NE

Names

This is Mei.

  

Mei is my dear sister's babe and is named after me.

When I was a kid, I always thought that it would be the coolest thing ever to be named after someone. There were heriones in the books that I read who were named after famous women. Friends I had who were named for family members. And I wanted that too. I also wished that my name was Amy. Or Dawn. (Apparently I wasn't all that imaginative.)

Sometime around my twelfth birthday it finally dawned on me that my great-grandmother's name had been Damie. I had known this for a long time and somehow I had never put two and two together. My name was Damie. My great-grandmother's name was Damie. I'm probably named for her! Major blonde moment/childhood.

Damie's daughter's name was Serena. Ryann's middle name was Serena. My Dad's middle name is Wesley, the same as all first-born sons for generations. And now there's little Mei.

I have a baby cousin who was born with Down's Syndrome. She is an amazing little girl and has surprised us time and again with her energy and great motor skills. The one thing that she has had a tough time with is talking. She talks all the time, but she can be difficult to understand. Often, when people have a name that's a bit too tricky for her to say clearly, she'll create one of her own. Mine is May. Jared's is Honey.

And now there's Mei.