Several months after your passing Momma ran into your diaper bag. It was sitting in your closet, still fully packed, waiting for our next outing. It had gathered a thin layer of dust, causing its chocolate brown exterior to look slightly gray. And, it looked sad. Lonely.
Your diaper bag was one of the last items we cleaned out and packed away. In the end, it was simply too difficult for Momma to touch or look at, so Dadda took ownership of the job. After the bag was stored, I sought out and saved one item. A ridiculous but meaningful item. One of your size 4 diapers. It still sits on a shelf in Momma's closet, right where I can see it every morning while I get dressed for work.
You see, Peanut, that diaper allows me to see you. I glance at its size, its form, the enthusiastic Elmo dancing on the front, and I can immediately picture your adorable little tush. Your belly button. Your long, skinny legs wobbling around the TV room, clad only in a t-shirt and diaper.
Your little brother is about to graduate to size 2 diapers. I wonder how my heart is going to feel the day he moves up to size 4? Will the images become confused? Will it reawaken the pain and grief? Or, will my heart and brain simply work it out as they have done so many other events and emotions?
No matter what, I'm pretty sure your size 4 diaper will always sit on my shelf. I'm convinced it holds a dim shadow of you...one I can almost physically touch if I close my eyes hard enough. I close them tight often, hoping I can convince the universe to give you back to me. In the meantime, thought, I'm sending you Momma love...to the moon - and back!