We are marching towards a milestone Momma never thought would arrive. One she is dreading but also welcoming for the sheer relief and sense of accomplishment. 500 Days of Pickle. And almost 2.5 years without my Peanut.
Recently, every day with Pickle is a happy/harsh reminder of what was ripped away the day you died. I now remember exactly what your laughter, smiles, hugs and kisses felt like and I am angry all over again. But, also thankful.
Because these last few weeks have allowed me to truly remember. To remember what grief thankfully blocked when it was too painful to remember. Now, I am ready and open to receiving those memories, those sensory pangs, senses, touches and smells.
For the first time I remember us holding hands on the couch, you threading your fingers through mine. Then, pulling my arm close around you as you sat in my lap and whispered, "Momma" in my ear through my hair.
I now remember reading you your bedtime story of "Guess How Much I Love You" and getting to the end to be greeted by your outstretched face, just waiting for a good-night kiss. Just like your brother does when I read him "The Runaway Bunny."
Peanut, I am so afraid to say "hello" to day 501 with Pickle. The guilt and relief. The disbelief that you aren't here. The fear that it could happen all over again.
Tonight we are surrounded by storms in St. Louis. Once again, the weather seems to match Momma's mood. Add to the storms the turbulence in her days with Dadda recently and it all seems too familiar. Haven't we learned our lessons? <sigh> Did we lose so much only to return to the way things were?
Momma has no answers, just reflection tonight. And, a bit of melancholy.
Peanut, I wish I could hold your little hand and hear you breathe into my ear, once again. I miss you. I love you. To the moon - and back!
|Peanut, surrounded by his - and now his brother's - favorite toys just 2 weeks before he passed away.|