47 Hours

To all that helped us over those few days and continue to show up there isn't a large enough thank you. You gave us what no one else could. You gave us a peaceful good by surrounded by love. There are so many I am probably missing. I don't remember every face from that night but I remember every ounce of support. People often see the fun part of the officers playing at Musicfest with our children or at police night out and don't stop to think of the part of the job that has an officer returning to their children after just witnessing the horror of seeing another child pass, walking into a home to see a mother and father whose child has passed after loosing your own child. They face things daily that others would run from. Prayers to all of the first responders that helped us and all of those who help others.

47 Hours

They say time is measured

by minutes, days, and years,

but for us,

time is measured

by 47 hours.

Forty-seven hours

that should have never existed,

yet became the most precious gift

we have ever received.

When the unthinkable happened,

when our world stopped turning,

I found myself on my knees,

desperately performing CPR

on my little girl.

Begging.

Praying.

Pleading for one more breath.

Then I looked up.

And through the chaos,

through the fear,

through the unimaginable heartbreak,

I saw heroes.

An officer running toward us.

Taking over for me

when my hands could do no more.

Carrying her to a waiting ambulance.

EMS crews fighting for a child

they had just met,

yet treating her as if she were their own.

In that moment,

when our world was falling apart,

they became our strength.

They fought for our little girl,

and in doing so,

they gave us something priceless

time.

Time to hold her tiny hand.

Time to rock her

as we had so many times before

Time to kiss her forehead

and tell her how deeply she was loved.

Time for her sisters

to sit beside her,

to talk to her,

to say goodbye.

Time for grandparents,

aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends

to gather around a little girl

who had changed so many lives.

Forty-seven hours.

Forty-seven hours of tears.

Forty-seven hours of prayers.

Forty-seven hours of hope,

of heartbreak,

of love.

We held her.

We sang to her.

We told her stories.

We wrapped her in every ounce of love

we had left to give.

And though we begged for forever,

forever wasn't ours to keep.

What we were given instead

were 47 sacred hours

hours filled with embraces,

with whispered promises,

with final lullabies,

with memories that would have otherwise

been stolen from us.

Tomorrow marks the day

our sweet Erin left this world.

But today,

we remember the gift.

We remember Officer Igoe and Office Bon

We remember Firefighter Mike Rinaldi.

We remember the EMS crews,

the doctors,

the nurses,

and every person who stood beside us.

Because of them,

our goodbye was not measured

in minutes.

Because of them,

our family was given

47 more hours.

And in those 47 hours,

we found enough love

to last a lifetime.