Hannah- My Little Monkey
One year for Thanksgiving, I think it was the year sarah and I got married (2004), we went, along with Sarah’s Mom and sisters to her aunt’s in St George. Hannah was 9 at this point, if I’m right on the year (The only reason I know the year is because I remember Hannah singing a beautiful rendition of My Immortal by Evanescence on Karaoke Revolution, and that volume came out in ’04).
I took it upon myself to draw various family members throughout the 2 days we were there. I drew Sarah’s mom knitting, Sarah and her cousin Brandi hugging each other, etc.
The drawing came when I was struck by what the subject was doing. Hannah was the easiest. She was jumping on the bed of another cousin (Alex, I think? Brooke would have been too old, I think) and having the time of her life. With every jump her long hair jumped up after her, always playing a game of catch up. I don’t think I quite captured the bliss in her face, but then, I don’t think anyone could convey the happiness she was exuding.
That was Hannah. She was full of life and loved every minute of it. Even when she became a moody teenager everything was all or nothing. No one was more full of life, or deserved a long, fruitful life, like Hannah.
She should be turning 18 this year. Instead I sit at my desk and relive my heart being torn out 2 years ago today.
I miss her. I miss her a lot. But mostly I’m angry. Angry that she never got to be the woman she was born to be, I’m angry that I have to live in a world that she’s not a part of, and I’m angry that I couldn’t save her.
I miss you, Hannah Banana.
My Little Monkey.
Hannah Rose Orton
1995-2011
A toast, in her memory. Figure banana daquiris would be appropriate.
That is one beautiful picture. Here’s to those we’ve Lost.
I don’t think I could say anything that would be an adequate response to your loss, so I’ll just say that this is a beautiful tribute.
I look at my 10 year old daughter Hannah, and I feel your pain. She looks a little like your drawing. Tall, skinny, dark hair, big smile but brown eyes, not blue…
Hold her close & cherish every second you get with her.
Lost my son in 1997 at the age of 23. His daughter was only 8 months old when he died. Miss him every day. Profound condolences. It will get easier: eventually.