Next week a brave new chapter begins for Momma. We have decided...after many tears...to remove The Pickle from your old school. For his health. For our sanity. For general logistics and convenience it all makes sense. But. Still.
You loved that school. Its teachers became your surrogate mothers. Two of your teachers spoke at your memorial service. They are our family.
We love that school. They cared for you as if you were their own. They supported us after your loss and continue to be a part of our family.
Walking into that school with The Pickle was hard but also familiar. We've continued to almost force The Pickle to walk your path for the last year. Beginning next week his path diverges from yours. He begins to blaze his own trail.
As I write this letter I realize...that's it. That is what I find so heavy. Final. Yet, somehow relieving, as if a giant weight is being lifting from Momma's shoulders.
It is OK to allow The Pickle to stray from your path. Your all-to-brief path that will end in the next few months for us with The Pickle. It is time to stop the comparisons, no matter how much the hair or smile "seem" the same.
It is time to let The Pickle simply be The Pickle. Not a comparison to you. Rather, a compliment.
Oh man, the guilt. The guilt of writing that, admitting it out loud. Tremendous.
Peanut, please know this doesn't mean I'm letting go of you or what you mean to my heart. It simply means Momma is recognizing this is yet another time when grief, love and hope need to learn to live side-by-side.
Peanut, I love you so very much. How much? To the moon - and back.
|Connor with his books...|