She had deep sapphire eyes and hair that you could tell would be red once it grew out longer. She was a beautiful baby and would have become a lovely young girl and, eventually, a beautiful young lady. I never got the chance to see that, though. Nobody ever got the chance to see her grow up. I remember the first time I held her. I was so nervous; it had been a long time since I’d held a baby that young. She was only a few weeks old then, a month at most. Nonetheless, I held the sleeping infant in my arms, and, being as foolish as I was, fell instantly in love. I loved and still do love her more than life itself. I would have given my life for her without a single thought.

In the armchair I sat, holding my beautiful baby in my arms, watching her sleep soundly. I never could have dreamt of what would later happen. We had her at the house a lot, that being attributed to her mother and “father’s” choice of lifestyle. You may wonder why there are quotation marks about the word father. He is not her biological father. Despite this, he was more proud of her than any father should be allowed, and he loved and loves her just as much as I did and do. I was never more happy than when I had her in my arms and sang her to sleep. She especially loved the fan. I remember once having to walk about the fan for two hours, all because she wouldn’t stop crying, she wanted to see the fan, and she wasn’t happy when I sat down. I was exhausted and losing my voice, but I wanted my baby to be happy, so I kept on.

I bless the day I found you. I want to stay around you, and so I beg you, let it be me. Don’t take this heaven from one. If you must cling to someone, now and forever, let it be me. Each time we meet love, I find complete love. Without your sweet love, what would life be? So never leave me lonely. Tell me you’ll love me only and that you’ll always let it be me. Each time we meet love, I find complete love. Without your sweet love, what would life be? So never leave me lonely. Tell me you’ll love me only and that you’ll always let it be me. Oh oh oh, let it be me.

I remember how peaceful she looked when she slept, like a little angel. Her tiny hands balled up, I would sit and watch her, not able to take my eyes off of God’s gift to me. I had infinite patience with that baby, even surprising myself. It would all be worth it though when I got to watch her looking so peaceful and happy as she slept, her tiny chest rising and falling with each tiny breath she pulled into her fragile lungs. I still wish, though, that I would have looked at her more, held her closer, sang to her more, anything, just so that I could be with her just a few moments longer.

She was three months and eleven days old. My father was picking me up from school, and I noticed how distraught he appeared. I sat quietly, respecting his sadness as something he might not want to share. What he said next, it simply wasn’t even close to anything I contemplated happening. He said her name and his voice cracked. “She’s in the hospital. Reese killed her.” My world was instantly shattered. I heard the pieces falling all around me, the shards cutting my heart into tiny parts, irreparable. Quite suddenly, anger clouded everything. Anger saved me from the indescribable pain for the time being. All I knew was that if I saw him, he would join her in the ground. I’ve never felt such all-consuming anger, my mother later told me that she was actually frightened by it. My baby was only three months and eleven days old.

I couldn’t cry. That was the rule I made for myself. I had to be strong for my mother and my father. I had to be strong for everyone. Crying would come later when it was just me and there was no one for me to be strong for. We sat outside the hospital with the family, waiting for the time when we could see my angel. I remember being so worried that she would die before I could see her one last time. Vengefulness was the dominant emotion still, my impenetrable protection against tears. Tears were something I couldn’t afford when I had to take care of my mother. Finally we entered the building. We were made to wait out in the hall for a time. Only a limited number of people were allowed in the room because of all the tubes and wires hooked up to my angel’s precious body.

I was finally allowed in. She was sitting there, holding my world. My mother stood beside me crying, so I slipped an arm around her, hoping it would be comforting. Honestly, what kind of comfort could you offer someone who’s grandchild is dead? I looked at her tiny form, wrapped in a blanket, lying as still as a stone. Her chest rose and fell in rhythm with the machine that now forced her body to work. The anger left me when I needed to be strongest, and soon tears made their way down my face. I forced myself not to sob, especially with all those people around me. Using my sleeve, I tried to erase the glistening trails before my mother could see. The doctor came in. “We need to clear everyone out except the mother. We need room for the harvesting.” A spark of anger ignited upon hearing his very insensitive words. It was quickly extinguished though as I looked back at my poor baby. This would be the last time I saw her alive. More tears sprang to my eyes, and I tried to blink them back but to no avail. They fell silently to the floor as I took a step forward to say my final goodbye. “Je’ teppartiens,” I whispered as I kissed her forehead. I carefully grasped her tiny fist in mine one last time before I turned and left the room.

I stalked down the hall to a lonesome dark corner where I could be by myself. It was 9:30 p.m. around the time she was taken off of life support. At least I believe that was the time. I sat alone, staring out one of the huge windows in the hallway of the hospital. The church had lights shining on it from all sides, a beautiful garden encircling the old stones. Emotions battled in my mind-anger, sadness, vengefulness, hate, compassion, depression, betrayal. I kept trying to force my mind to register that she was actually gone. Each time I thought of her, it felt like my already shattered heart was jumped on. What to feel when one person you love killed another that you loved more than life?

Days later, I went to the funeral. We waited for the viewing outside the funeral home. BACA was there with their motorcycles. I forced myself to be strong once again, even though the only thing I wished to do was cry. I had to be strong for my mom. Finally, we were allowed inside. We entered quietly, me beside my mother. Soon we reached the pews, and at the front of the room was a tiny casket holding my angel. I felt my heart break again as I saw her. We sat and listened to everyone talking about my baby girl. I hardly listened as I sat staring at the coffin. All the times I held her small form in my arms came rushing through my mind. How I would hold her and walk around the fan for hours singing to her. She absolutely loved the fan. Her infatuation with it was simply adorable. Seeing her smile, kissing her thin red hair as she fell asleep in my arms. Staying up with her as she cried. All of it was worth it. I only wish I could have held her a little longer.

I stood and walked to her side, wanting to see my angel, my life, once more. She looked like a doll. A pitiful spark of anger surged through me. There was no way that she ever looked like that alive. How dare they ruin my baby’s beauty like that?

I’m so tired of being here, suppressed by all my childish fears. If you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave, ‘cause your presence still lingers here, and it won’t leave me alone. These wounds won’t seem to heal. This pain is just too real. There’s too much that time cannot erase. When you cried, I’d wipe away all of your tears. When you’d scream, I’d fight away all of your fears. And I’ve held your hand through all of these years, but you still have all of me. You used to captivate me by your resonating life. Now I’m bound by the life you left behind. Your face, it haunts my once pleasant dreams. Your voice, it chased away all of the sanity in me. These wounds won’t seem to heal. This pain is just too real. There’s just too much that time cannot erase. When you’d cry, I’d wipe away all of your tears. When you’d scream, I’d fight away all of your fears. And I’ve held your hand through all of these years, but you still have all of me. I’ve tried so hard to tell myself that your gone. But though you’re still with me, I’ve been alone all along. When you’d cry, I’d wipe away all of your tears. When you’d scream, I’d fight away all of your fears. And I’ve held your hand through all of these years, but you still have all of me.

We proceeded to the graveyard, the procession pretty long thanks to BACA. I can’t remember whether the day was sunny or cloudy, warm or cold, it was all a haze to me. We reached the sight, her final resting place. The tiny casket was already there, sitting on a pier, waiting to be lowered into the cold earth. She didn’t deserve to be there. I felt tears pushing at my eyes, trying to find release. I stood beside my mother, being sure to not let them fall. More empty words were said. After all, what words could comfort me? And then we left. The last time her body was above the earth in the sunlight, in the air, in my world.

I visit her still, bringing her fresh flowers. I’m sure she’d love the colors and smells of the roses, daisies, or other flowers, whatever the case may be. Angels and dolls and stuffed animals adorn her grave. Only a small white cross stands to mark her resting place. She deserves so much better. I still wish to hold her in my arms and sing to her. Sometimes at night, I close my eyes and pretend that I’m holding her again, carrying her in some far-off place where no one can hurt us. I just hold her and sing. Other times I imagine my grandmother holding her, taking care of her in heaven. It’s these times that I let the tears go, away from the eyes of this world, in the seclusion of my mind. My angel’s heart was given to one baby. Somewhere in this world, my baby girl’s heart still lives on, giving life to another child, and some small amount of hope to me.

She walks to school with the lunch she packed. Nobody knows what she's holdin' back.
Wearin' the same dress she wore yesterday, she hides the bruises with linen and lace. The teacher wonders, but she doesn't ask. It's hard to see the pain behind the mask. Bearing the burden of a secret storm. Sometimes she wishes she was never born. Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone. In a world that she can't rise above. But her dreams give her wings, and she flies to a place where she's loved-Concrete angel. Somebody cries in the middle of the night. The neighbors hear, but they turn out the lights. A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate, when morning comes it'll be too late. Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone. In a world that she can't rise above. But her dreams give her wings, and she flies to a place where she's loved-Concrete angel. A statue stands in a shaded place, an angel girl with an upturned face. A name is written on a polished rock-a broken heart that the world forgot. Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone. In a world that she can't rise above. But her dreams give her wings, and she flies to a place where she's loved-Concrete angel.

I’ll love my angel, my first niece, forever and always.