Tomorrow is...D Day. Daycare Day. The Pickle's first day at your school. Momma has only walked through those doors once since you passed away. Those classrooms are full of memories of you. A froggy statue with your name and the fingerprints of your classmates now lives in their butterfly garden. And now we (I) have to learn to build new, happy memories in those walls with your little brother.
You loved school. The interaction with other children. The activities and classes and teachers. Well...except "gym" class. Apparently you and the teacher never saw eye to eye. The memory of those funny daily reports, detailing your displeasure with gym class still make me giggle.
The day before you died you had to leave school early due to your fever. 100.7 degrees. No school for you until you were fever-free for 24 hours. The morning you passed away Dadda was getting you up to go see the doctor. But...you never made it there. Instead, we called 911, performed CPR on the bedroom floor, took a wild ambulance ride, experienced heroic efforts to save you in the ER, dealt with the frustrating organ donation process, survived questioning by the police, and eventually held you for the last time. And then the phone calls started. Momma called work. Dadda called your school. Since your death was so totally inexplicable, we had to put them on notice. What if there was some horrible, new virus? What if other children in your class were infected?
The school, its staff, and your teachers surrounded us - and continue to surround us - with love, support, food, flowers, friendship. Two of your teachers spoke at your memorial service, sharing wonderful stories, memories and tears. Your school had to quietly grieve while caring for the other families, and keeping the business running.
And now, they are preparing for your brother. I spent this evening labeling his bottles, food, diapers, snacks. The label-maker purchased for you was pulled out of storage. As I turned it on I wondered...would it pull up the last label I made for you? <sigh> No.
Momma's heart is heavy. I know daycare is the right thing to do for The Pickle. He is ready to be around other kids. But, he has been so healthy. And, we're entering cold and flu season. He's had all his vaccinations, his flu shot, his formula loaded with probiotics. But...what if...?
Momma is putting her faith in...something. The universe? God? All that might be right with the world? I don't know. I have to believe lightning won't strike twice. I have to believe it is safe to plan on a future with The Pickle. I have to believe he has a Guardian Angel named Peanut. Connor. My little boy.
Peanut, I know I ask a lot of you but I need another favor. Flap your wings extra hard tomorrow. Keep an eye on your brother. And feel the love I am sending to you every second of every minute of every day. How much love is that? To the moooooooooooooon - and back!
|Your froggy statue in the butterfly garden.|