These last few weeks Momma has been concerned that you are viewing from heaven that our upcoming house move is a step away from you. As an attempt to forget or mask the pain. As...well...moving on.
Oh Peanut, it is not.
Earlier this week a well-intentioned (I think) co-worker talked to Momma about how EVERYONE has agreed this is something our family has needed to do. You know. To move on. How another executive with my firm also lost a child and couldn't move on until he and his family packed up and moved across the country. This person actually had the gall to congratulate Momma for making this decision and for moving on. And expressed the expectation that the bad days would now disappear. And the old Momma would magically emerge. That EVERYONE was hoping for that.
What Momma knows is this - we are moving with you. Your spirit and memories are not anchored to this house, they are with us.
The last two years Momma has found comfort and safety in the cocoon of a workplace that knows the story and magnitude of our loss. But, in recent months that coin has turned to the tarnished side. Comments focused on "move on"and "get over it" have begun to permeate the atmosphere. So...now what?
Peanut, I know your spirit and love will be my Northern Star as I navigate this sticky situation.
I am remembering you in ways I forgot thanks to Pickle's burst of walking, talking, laughing. I am remembering the giant personality we lost in you. I am...remembering. And, it is painful, joyful, scary, happy, sad. And more.
Sweet Peanut, who taught me to love without expectation - I love you. To the moon - and back.