Momma realized today there is a lot of joy in remembering the specifics. The general statements and feelings - I miss coming home to you, I miss dropping you off at school in the morning, I miss listening to you sleep on your monitor - lead to feelings of general, overwhelming sadness. A sadness I can't pinpoint, target or give a voice or focus to, which gives it a frightening life of its own.
Specific memories, with exact details and moments in time, bring mental pictures to the forefront. Images from a time in our lives so full of happiness and Peanut joy, that I can't help but smile. When the general, lingering sadness starts to settle in on my heart like a wet, heavy wool blanket, I re-focus. I find an exact moment, memory, story, and give it every ounce of my mind and heart.
This evening I heard the general sadness knocking on my door. Momma let it knock for a moment, but decided to instead think about one of my all-time favorite Peanut memories. It's actually a memory Dadda and I like to remember and laugh about together. Several months ago (May) I mentioned how much you loved all the Dr. Seuss books. In particular, One Fish Two Fish. We had lots of games we would play together when you let me read you the book - when we got to the red fish we would look for everything red in the room - and you loved to play with all the moving plastic fish attached to the cover of the book.
As you got older, you desperately wanted to read the book all by yourself. Rather than bring the book to Momma for reading and games, you would grab it from the coffee table and take it into your bedroom. The message was - "I can do it myself, thank you very much!" You would get settled in on the floor, on your tummy, legs kicked up, with the book open in front of you. And then, you would start to "read" it out loud, checking in every few moments to ensure Momma and Dadda were watching and listening. It sounded something like this:
"Bah Besh, Ou Esh,
Reh Esh, BOU BISH!!!!"
Followed by a giggle, glance over to Momma and Dadda, and a brilliant grin.
I love, cherish, that memory. In that moment, I was given a gift. A flash of what you might've been like at age 6 or 10 while studying for school, or reading another favorite book. It was one of those moments when I realized my baby was growing into a little boy.
Oh, how I wish there were more of those moments in our future with you, Peanut. But, at least we have the gift of those special moments. I am missing you more than I can possibly express in words. But, I think you know...I've felt you here all day. So, sending you a big kiss! To the moon and back...