Well, another Tuesday night. Which marks another week - another month - without you. Surprisingly, Tuesdays have lost some of their sting. Maybe that is part of the healing power of time. I don't have the same feeling of dread. Instead, I remember that last Tuesday night with love, and am so thankful for the memory.
However, I woke up today with such a sense of sorrow and loss, it was almost impossible to get out of bed. I started to question if I'd gone back to work too soon, if I'd allowed myself enough time and space to grieve. Then, I realized it was my sense of routine and responsibility to work that has been getting me motivated each day. Huh.
Thankfully, Dadda and I had time scheduled today with the doctor who has been helping us navigate your loss these last few months. She has been such a healing force in our lives, and has helped me find hope through the tears. In that safe space I have been allowed the grace to cry freely, share stories of you, and reveal the depth of our loss. And, today I discovered I can laugh through the tears. Dadda and I were marveling over all the adventures we'd had with you in 16.5 short months, including a visit to the pumpkin patch when you were only 4 weeks old. You poor thing...I put you in a pumpkin hat, and we sat you in the midst of a bunch of pumpkins on a hay bale. You cried and screamed. No wonder! I would have too! I've included a picture from that day - it shows how much force of personality you had even at 4 weeks.
I also caught myself singing in the car today. I haven't done that since before we lost you. Music has been one of my primary loves since...well, since I can remember. And, I've always been a singer. Music was also a love of yours. It lit you from within. But, recently I've lost my power of song. And I really wasn't sure if it would ever come back. But today it snuck up on me. I felt you in it, and actually turned around in the car to see if you were in the back seat grinning back at me. In a way, I think you were.
Peanut, thank you for being here, helping me heal. I feel you, even if I can't touch you. To the moon and back my special, special boy.
- Momma
Sing it loud for your boy, everyday. He wants you to! I'm so sorry for your deep pain, I'm so glad to hear that you guys are seeing someone that can help give you with the tools you need to go on. I love you!
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