You were 16.5 months old when we lost you. Old enough to be walking and talking. Old enough for us to see the wonderful little boy you were growing into...to see your personality and promise. The loss of that future, the loss of the possibilities is part of what makes this grief so sharp. Did you know you were supposed to go to Stanford? And be a lawyer, doctor and professional hockey player???
Two of your first - and most favorite - words were "Uh Oh!" and "Up!" Of course, they were accompanied by the related actions from both you and, me and Dadda. Generally, you would throw your sippy cup, give me a befuddled look and say, "Uh oh!" And, that look always came with my signature one-eyebrow raise. You mimicked me perfectly which was totally, utterly disarming.
Later, as you were pulling up and walking around furniture you quickly learned that "u-PUH" (said with particular emphasis on the P) would get you a seat on the couch. You would stand at the edge of the couch, hand us all your books, toys, Cheerios, etc. and demand "u-PUH!" until we (gladly) complied. Once you were there, you always wanted back down just to repeat the whole process. I loved every minute of it.
I smelled you today. It was amazing and devastating all at once. Not sure why, but I smelled your tennis shoes. Everything else has lost your scent, but not these. Thank goodness. As I brace for another weekend without you, I remember all the wonderful moments you granted me. I never would have known Momma-joy without you. Thank you so much, 'Nut.
I love you - to the moon and back.