It's funny how differently we all track the passage of time. For me, last Wednesday held incredible significance as it marked 12 weeks. For others, it is marked by today's date - the 26th since we lost you on January 26. And, for others it is a particular day of the week or month when they last experienced you. Like our grief, it is intensely personal and it is always "right." What's important is feeling it. Acknowledging it.
In the days after we lost you, I was tormented by thoughts of what happened. How does a healthy little boy just not wake up? Did I miss something? Did you suffer? The guilt was like a tidal wave, and Momma was drowning in it. But then, beginning one week after you passed, I started getting a Peanut wake-up call at 4:34 am EVERY morning. I think it was your way of telling me, "Momma, it's OK. I'm OK." It's been months since I've gotten that 4:34 am wake-up call. But, I got it today. The 26th. Peanut, maybe you have your own special way of marking time too.
We now know you did not suffer. But, we have also come to realize we might not ever get an explanation. SUDC. Sudden Unexplained Death in Childhood. I've added a link to this wonderful organization to the right margin for those who want to know more. This organization has provided our family with a network of support, information and advocacy. And, guess what Peanut - you are now enrolled in their very important research study. Yet another square in the quilt of your legacy.
Sweet, sweet Peanut. I'm thinking of you, and the way you would sit on my lap facing me, touching my eyelashes with a long, soul-embracing gaze. Then you'd toss your head back with a giant Peanut giggle. This perfect goofiness was always followed by you throwing your arms around my neck and whispering into my ear, "Momma." I love you bunches of noodles - and to the moon and back and back and back again.