Time takes on a whole new meaning, an entirely different rhythm, when you are a bereaved parent. At least, when you are this particular bereaved Momma. Days of the week, particular dates, and certain number counts become mile markers of loss...some of them joyful, others morbid, and some just too hard to think about. There are the obvious ones - your birthdays and Angel Days. And then the ones only a bereaved parent would tick off...when we hit 500 days without you, when your brother will officially pass you in earth days. And there is this week.
Right on the heels of The Pickle's first birthday we are faced with this week. The week leading up to your two year anniversary. January 26. But last night and today have been heart-wrenching because they represent the fourth week, the fourth Tuesday and Wednesday, of January. That was the week you passed away in 2011. On this Wednesday night two years ago Momma was in shock - a shell of herself. Contemplating life without you, ending her own life, the thought that maybe this was all a dream - a nightmare - that I needed to wake from with a hard pinch. But, it was all too real and somehow we have survived two years. How can that be?
Last night Momma purposely changed her routine so nothing would look or feel the same as 2011...maybe this act would spare your brother from the Reaper who found our home, our beloved Peanut, so appealing. Relief flooded Momma's heart when she heard The Pickle babbling away this morning. But all day Momma marked the clock, remembering what we were doing at the same time two years ago.
Momma has also been home battling the flu that has swept across the US this year, a dark reminder that I was sick with a sinus infection the weekend before you died. What if I pass this flu on to your brother? What if, what if, what if...?
Tomorrow and the next day will simply be reminders of how blissfully unaware Momma was during these same days in 2011. No clue how quickly all we love, cherish, hold important can be ripped away without explanation.
How we will we honor you this year? Your Angel Day is not a day we choose to "celebrate" but instead something we acknowledge by remembering you through thoughts and actions. Maybe Momma will organize your special trunk. Maybe I will go back and look at the guest book from your Memorial Service. Or, read all the beautiful, heart-felt cards we received offering love and support. I am still not sure.
One thing Momma will do? Read to you, from your favorite bedtime story. The last book I ever got to read to you in life, and the book that was read at your service - Guess How Much I Love You. And we will dance with reckless abandon as we watch The Jungle Book. And I know I will feel you smiling down on us, and I might even feel a Peanut hug.
I love you, Peanut. So very, very much. How much? To the moon - and back!
|Peanut hamming it up during what would turn out to be our last high chair photo session - January 20, 2011.|