The Day I Lost You… A Tribute to Lily and Her Generation

baby shoesOn November 11, 2012, my dad was having his first signs of a heart attack.  It was also, of course, Veteran’s Day, a touching day for me when we remember those who lived and died defending our freedoms.

It was also the day I lost a baby.

We were (very surprisingly) expecting a new little one, and we were filled with joy.  Normally, I would have been freaking out.  Our youngest was only 8 months old, and not only have I never been able to get pregnant until my youngest is fully weaned, but my body generally needs a time of recovery (as does my psyche ;))  But for some reason, this time, I was at peace, and strangely glad to feel the familiar nausea, light-headedness, and already protruding belly (my body doesn’t wait to ‘show’ anymore, at this stage in the game!)

The kids were giddy.  For some reason, no matter how they have to share their toys and no matter how they can argue with each other and no matter how things can seem squished in our “not 10,000 square foot home”, they always want more… siblings, that is.  They even said, “Mom!  Since your tummy is already so big, maybe you’re having twins!  Yeah!”  Clearing my throat, I said, “Ok, ok, mommy’s tummy has no tone.  Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  And besides, we HAVE a baby still!”  “But we want another one!  Another one!” they all chimed, except for one son who remained quiet behind his book.  He’s the logical one.

What always amazes me about our children is that even though they make so many sacrifices to be part of a big family, they still have more love to give.  It seems to never run out, but instead, multiplies… endlessly…

On November 10th, something didn’t feel right.  I kind of knew, but didn’t want to know.  I wanted to go to church by myself that Saturday evening.  I felt solitary, quiet, turned inward.  I didn’t sleep that night.

The next day, I sat alone while my family was at mass.  It began to snow outside.  I sat clinging my knees in my easy chair in our room and stared out the window… and I wrote:

On the day I lost you

the snow began to fall.

Mercilessly, it smothered any

remaining signs of life

and yet, its beauty, white

with purity fresh

covered ugliness of death

and barren trees

so that all appeared heavenly.

You were smaller than a snowflake

but your soul endures

resting in the arms of the One

Who made you and smiled.

You rest in my heart

and I smile through tears

although we are apart

because this distance is short

and the time brief

until we meet

and dance in fields of green

where life is eternal

and death’s sting will be no more.

“Lily” by Shalimar Masters  Copyright 2012


In the next few days, we will reach the 40th anniversary of the tragic decision of our Supreme Court to legalize the willful ending of a baby’s life in her mother’s womb.  Millions… millions… numbers that our brains don’t even register.  They are missing.   I feel it… I feel the void.  My little one flew to her Father’s arms in peace, as her passing was not in violence or by choice.  But so many, SO MANY little ones are forced out… forced out of their mothers.  Forced off the earth.  Forced out of our hearts.  Little ones who longed to be loved just like we all do.  Little ones who would be big ones one day, with so much to offer, more than we could imagine.  Millions of lives changing millions of others… until billions of us would have been affected differently, had we known these missing ones.

The earth quakes at this loss.  All of nature cries out.  Our souls and hearts cry out, even if we are not aware.  We have been in a desert of death.  And it is time for the desert to be flooded with living water.  It is time for our 40 years of wandering in error to end.  It is time for an era of LIFE.

I love you, tiny Lily, and I love you, all you little snowflakes and white daisies flying to meet your Creator…

I miss you.



5 thoughts on “The Day I Lost You… A Tribute to Lily and Her Generation

  1. What a beautiful memorial Shal. She loves you too…My little ones have a playmate from a friend so dear to me, I am sure they are watching over us and dancing, they don’t feel the years the way we do..I look forward to the day when we can all be together…

    Thank you for sharing this, it is very personal and beautiful. I wish the whole world could see the value of allthes little souls the way we do… things would be different.

    Love you!



    1. Donna, thank you so much for your sweet words… I imagine a good number of us have little children playing together in ‘those fields of green’… 😉 I look forward to meeting them, too!

      Love you,


  2. Oh my goodness, Shal! I am SO SORRY for your loss! I wish that I could hug you right now. You are such an amazing and strong person. I love you. Your little one loves you and will be waiting for you to gather her in your arms when you reach heaven.

    I love you,


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