They were just a pair of baby PJs at the thrift store, but I threw them into our cart without any hesitation.
Pandas.
That’s all they had to be for me to justify the purchase.
The last phone call I had with my grandpa before he passed away over a year ago, I debated whether I should tell him I was pregnant. I chose not to. Unlike her big sisters, Paisley will never have a video of him meeting her or a photo of their hands overlapped. Pandas were our thing and, in a way, I feel like I honor him when I put my baby into panda gear.
Even though we gifted Emmaline a panda backpack + some books for her 1st birthday (which was less than a week from my grandpa’s death), I still think of Paisley as “my panda baby.”
Death and grief are tricky emotions. They hit you unexpectedly and are sometimes a soft smirk & gentle eyes or an aching heart with tears rolling down your cheeks. But I’m a true believer that grief, whether for a loved one who lived a full life or a little one whose life never really started, can be welcomed at any time. The moment you hear the news and years later when you dream of “the good ol’ days” or what could’ve been, you can still grieve.
So today, I pack up that little panda bear zip-up into a box that won’t be opened until our next child needs them. And when that box opens and my eyes fall on that little outfit, I’ll be hit with the emotions all over again. And I’m okay with that. Because from here on out, all my kids will know that pandas are a way I get to honor my grandpa.
