It's been almost a week since Momma's last letter. There has been so much going through my brain it's been hard to put words to "paper." It seems everywhere I look there is a reminder of you, of the lack of you, of what you're missing. Of what I'm missing.
The second year without you is hard.
This should be your third summer. You should be right on the cusp of turning 3 years old.
You should be riding that awesome tricycle Dadda bought for your first birthday. You wouldn't need us to use the push-handle anymore since you would be powering around all on your own.
You should be learning to swim this summer. Not just basic floating and survival skills, but truly learning some of the strokes, and how to paddle around the pool on your own.
You should be getting yourself dressed in the morning, with very little assistance from Momma and Dadda.
You should be holding funny, little conversations with us and using adjectives like a pro.
You should be blowing bubbles in the side yard for Henry the Dog to chase.
You should be chasing fireflies in the orange glow of dusk, and watching the deer in our yard with wonder and delight.
As Momma sat by the side of our pool on Sunday afternoon, the image of you running across our pool deck to cannonball into the pool played endlessly in my head. The Pickle was upstairs sleeping, and Henry decided to come out to take a dip with me. He must have sensed the sadness surrounding Momma - he must have gotten a little nudge from you, Peanut. In the near 100-degree heat, Henry exited the pool to come rest by Momma's side, with his head on my knee. I placed my left hand on his head, and cried a long, soft cry for you.
The second year without you is hard.
I'm pretty sure every year without you is going to be hard.
Peanut, my heart isn't sure how to lift this heavy load. It is sad, ragged. But also hopeful and filled with love for you and The Pickle. It is attempting to heal, even though the scars keep getting torn off just when I think true healing has started.
I love and miss you every second. I love you, I love you, I love you. How much? To the MOON and back!
- Momma
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