November 29, 1998 I sat quietly rocking myself as I held Nadia's blanket today. It was her favorite possession. The smell of my precious baby no longer lingers on the old stained and worn blanket. How she loved it. My eyes easily find the red Kool-Aid stain from years ago. Nadia would not part with the blanket long enough for me to wash it. I have memorized each and every portion of her blanket, much as I had once memorized every part of her face. It brings me some comfort, the same with her hair that is still entangled in her hairbrush. My life had no meaning after she was gone. There was no one to get up and cook breakfast for. There was no one to read to or to feed the ducks with. It took what seemed a lifetime, for me to continue living. I close my eyes remembering her face, the face of a two year old. Her black eyes, the eyes of my father, and her dimples, would jump out at me. The memories bring me a smile. Her first tooth, her first words and her first steps, all serve as milestones in her life that I had the honor of being a witness to. Those few years of memories have served to keep Nadia a part of me for six years now. There is no resolution, however, for the lose. It is amazing that of the thousands of people I have met in my life, this one small child that I only knew for two years, could touch me so deeply and move my life in such a way as to continue being the center of it even after her absence of so many years. I wonder if she remembers my smell. I wonder if she lies in bed at night wondering about her Momma. I wonder what she has been told about me, if she has been told that I am dead, or do not love her. So many of my tears have fallen on Nadia's blanket. I fear that it may have become my favorite possession as it was for her. The agony of living without her is unbearable. I want to scream at the top of my lungs. Why won't someone help my baby. I can not do this alone. Please, someone hear me....