>RIP, Lambchop

Lambchop is gone.

And this wasn’t just any Lambchop. This was Lambchop, the stuffed animal that accompanied us on every family trip since I met the girls. This was the Lambchop who wore a wedding dress of her own the day my husband and I married, the Lambchop who had her own beach chair and swimsuit for our Destin vacations, the Lambchop who was photographed in every location from London to Durango. Lambchop was part of our family and now?

Now, I’m pretty sure we’ll never see her again.

Technically, Lambchop belonged to my 14-year-old stepdaughter. She had lugged Lambchop around since her toddler days, constantly changing Lambchop’s diaper and speaking nonsensical words of comfort into her fleecy ears. Despite 14’s astonishing ability to lose just about anything (including her cellphone, resulting in $800 of phone calls being charged on it by the time she told us it was missing- Good times, people!), Lambchop never went astray. Oh, there were close calls, like the time 14 left Lambchop in an out-of-town Cracker Barrel and returned 5 minutes later to find a 2-year-old chewing on the doll and parents who kept insisting that their daughter had “found it” and were scarily reluctant to give it back. But somehow, some way, Lambchop hung in there and by this time, I had begun to take it for granted that she would be with us forever. 14 is at an age at which Lambchop has lately been left at home, comfortably nestled in the tangled mayhem of blankets and pillows that pass for 14’s bed.

And then yesterday, 14 told her father that Lambchop was gone. Inexplicably, she had brought Lambchop on a trip with a friend to a Gatlinburg cabin and left our stuffed family member behind.

And that was three weeks ago.

Hubs is going to call today and find out if Lambchop’s still around, but you know as well as I do that after three weeks, the chances of finding her are slim to none. Lambchop is old and dirty and even if they held onto her for a few days, I highly doubt they’d realize the sentimental value of an old stuffed animal whose owner hasn’t noticed she’s missing after 21 days.

14’s not talking about it much. What is there to say, really? But rest assured that Lambchop’s absence will be felt by all of us, every time we look through our family photos and see her perky little face.

Rest in Peace, Lambchop. Rest in Peace.

This post originally appeared on Parents.com.