Turning the Page

Peanut -

And so we say "farewell" to another month, and turn the calendar page from May to June.  Another month without you.  And, more significantly, a move into a new season.  I lost you in winter, faced the darkness of sorrow and despair from winter into spring, discovered the beginning of hope towards the end of spring and now...well, who knows what summer will bring?

What I do know is I've been flooded with memories of last summer all day today.  It was such a monumental, transformational time for you, when you truly started becoming a "little boy" rather than my "baby."  I saw your personality emerge and flex its Peanut muscle.  Your funny, wise little smile.  Your stubborn streak and tenacity.  Your desire - gift - to create smiles.  And your supreme love of sharing, spreading, awarding hugs to friends, family and strangers alike.  You were joy packed into a tiny, energetic little package, Peanut.

I also recalled today a conversation I had with a friend at work the last Tuesday we had you on earth.  January 25.  It had been a particularly trying day at work, full of politics, gossip and some bad behavior.  As I walked out the door that evening to meet Aunt Dru for dinner, I commented that you, My Peanut, were the one thing that made all the bullshit worth it.  You were my sunshine, my sanity.  The one thing I looked forward to in the morning, evening and every time in-between.  And you still are, just in a very different way.  It's been hard to get to this place, but I do know that you're still very present and a part of everything I do, say, think.  And I want you to be proud.  So, chin up, Momma!

Tonight I'm sharing a piece of your sunshine, in the form of your wonderful smile.  You make my heart glow when I gaze upon your sweet face in this picture.  And, a part of me can see the angel you must be in heaven.  Just glorious.  Peanut, you are my heart, sweet boy.  I love you - to the moon and back!

- Momma

Missing Peanut Time

Peanut -

These holiday weekends are too long.  There is too much empty time and space to fill, thinking about everything we should be doing with you.  No matter how much "stuff" I pack into the long weekend, it still drags on and on and on...and little reminders of you creep into my heart and brain in the silent, still moments.  Like this evening as I sat on the couch, I caught myself thinking, "I should be playing on the floor with Peanut right now, reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar, listening to his Disney fire engine siren blare, and that crazy Handy Manny toolbox play songs over and over."  Instead, it was just me, the ceiling fans and the television.  <sigh>

I miss the structure of our days.  The routine.  The things I could count on.  Since that awful day in January, there is very little I "count on" anymore.  I miss having my life revolve around YOU.  I don't want life to revolve around me anymore.  I had 35+ years of that.  Now it feels so...hollow.  Empty.

One of my favorite weekend activities once you started on food was cooking for you.  Every weekend it was something new.  At first, steamed veggies and fruit, all pureed and blended in interesting combos (apple + avocado = bliss).  Then we moved to pastas.  And, finally, meatballs, chicken fingers and other yummy Peanut finger foods.  It was so fun trying out new recipes while you watched, then letting you sample the goods.  You were an easy audience since I honestly can't think of one thing you didn't like.  Oh.  Wait!  Maybe green beans.  But, otherwise, you were a VERY food motivated Peanut.  As the picture I'm sharing from last spring shows, your really, really loved meal time!

Peanut, I'm missing you a lot tonight.  The very sad times seem to ebb and flow, and I anticipate this evening is going to be tough.  That's OK.  It's the tears and grief - the tears of love, in particular - that keep me feeling connected to you.  And I know the tears are also a huge part of my healing journey.  So tonight I embrace them as I think about you, and send you all my love, hugs, and kisses straight up to the moon - and back.  Oh, how I love you.

- Momma

What IS All This Cool Stuff?! (Tell me now! Are we rich?!)

Peanut -

Last year Dadda and I introduced you to two very important "firsts" over Memorial Day weekend.  Your brand new Little Tykes swing, and the POOL.  Oh boy!  Dadda had been dreaming of that swing for months, and was so proud when he brought it home, found the perfect branch under the perfect tree, and got it ready for a Peanut Test Drive.  That weekend became the first of many spent swinging under the tree, and splashing around in the pool for hours.

I love looking back at the progression of pictures over the course of last summer.  Week by week, the utter joy on your face grows and spreads, until you can see that swimming and swinging are clearly the highlights of your weekend.  We could spend an entire weekend doing nothing but playing with you in the yard, and it felt like the most amazing, adventurous, complete weekend of a lifetime.

It's so hard to play in the side yard now with Henry the Puppy because that perfect tree with the perfect branch is still there.  It still has the chain for your swing hanging, blowing in the breeze, waiting for you and your swing.  It looks so lonely.  So expectant.  "Where's Peanut?" it seems to ask, day after day.  And in my mind and heart I answer, "He's here.  We just can't reach out and touch him..."

I'm including some pictures from last Memorial Day.  The one of you and Dadda by the pool is one of my absolute favorites.  And, the one in your swing seems to so perfectly capture your new-found delight in the whole swing concept.  Just like your Momma in so many ways - prove it to me before I'll buy in, but once I'm convinced I am SOLD!

Oh sweet Con-man.  I've thought about you and talked about you a lot today.  Many wonderful, funny, touching stories have been shared, and there has been a lot of laughter, sorrow, joy and crying.  And, that seems completely, totally, 100% perfect to me.    I love you, my Little Nutbrown Hare, to the moooooooooooon and back.

- Momma

Is That A Raccoon? No! It's Peanut!

Peanut -

I finished sorting through and storing your clothes today.  It was too hard to face that part of the task when we tackled your room a few weekends ago, but today I was able to find some comfort in the activity.  And, a whole lot of tears.

Everything from your room has been sorted into two distinct groupings: 1) Potentially Re-use and 2) Super Special Peanut Storage.  The first pass was easy in terms of what got placed into which pile.  It was the second round that was soooooo much harder.  By the end, I had a series of outfits hardly ever worn by you, but that hold a very special set of memories for me.  And, no matter what, I don't think I could ever face seeing another little boy wearing them.  So, to Super Special Peanut Storage they went.

One of the hardest was your awesome black and blue raccoon outfit.  Hands down, it was one of my favorites from this fall.  You probably only wore it three or four times, but I had to snap pictures each and every time because the outfit was so endearing, so darn precious, and so perfect on YOU, that I just couldn't get enough.  Every fiber of my being wanted to place that outfit in the Potentially Re-use stack, but...no.  In the end, I had to relent.  This will forever be a Peanut outfit.

I think one of the worst realizations today was that everything I was sorting and storing was "old."  From this past fall and winter.  Nothing that represents spring, summer, present time.  And, it just reinforced that you are gone.  That you have now been gone over 4 months.  And you are not coming back.  Today, time was not my friend.

My heart is shattered into a thousand tiny bits this evening as I struggle to remember your smell.  Your touch.  The grip of your hands.  The warmth of your breath.  The depth of your clear blue eyes.  The ring of your laughter.  And the amazing love packed into your hugs.  Tonight I am allowing the love and grief to wash over me like a tidal wave.  Because, I know the sun will shine again tomorrow.

Oh Peanut, My Peanut.  I love you to the moon and back.  Times infinity.

- Momma

One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish...Red Fish...Red Fish...Yes, Red Fish...

Peanut!

Boy, oh boy, did you ever love Dr. Seuss.  We have a number of Dr. Seuss board books that are embellished with loads of fun gadgets and whirlygigs that you loved to play with - sliding fish, furry bellies, feathers, rings on ribbons, and so on.  And, without fail, the text always made you giggle and clap.  But, just like with The Very Hungry Caterpillar, you had your favorite parts of each book that we simply had to read over, and over, and over, and over...

You loved to grab "One Fish, Two Fish," walk around the room, present it to Momma, then take it away to read all by yourself.  I would spy on you, to see what pages and pictures you found most interesting vs. what simply wasn't worth your precious Peanut time.  Without fail, your two favorite parts - the Red Fish and the New Fish.  You always pointed to the New Fish in its little baby fish carriage, then you would point to its Momma Fish and look at me with raised eyebrows.  Smart Peanut.

When I actually got to read the book TO you, we would point to the Red Fish (five or six times), find the matching fish on the sliding fish bar, then we would find other red stuff in the room, like Elmo.  It really didn't matter if we finished the book at that point - the search and match game was exactly what you wanted. I look back on those activities and am amazed by your speed and connectivity.  Everything was coming together so quickly for you over those last few months.  I wish I could see you today, at 20.5 months.  You might already be doing long algebra!

We have that book packed away right now, along with most of your other belongings.  I'm fighting the urge to go pull it out of storage so I can read it, and maybe even sleep with it tonight.  Your spirit still lingers for me in the little places that meant so much.  Your favorite books, blankets, stuffed animals, and certain clothes.  These are the treasured items that will forever carry you, your memories and your stories.

I'm sharing a picture tonight of a beautiful plate one of my dear friends (and co-workers) painted from memory about a month after we lost you.  She was with her children at a pottery painting store, and literally found herself creating this image from "Guess How Much I Love You," surrounded by store patrons, before she even registered what was happening.  Peanut Magic, I believe.  She was one of the first people to hold you after you were born, and I think you have visited her several times over the last 4 months.

Peanut, I'm feeling guilty about having hope and planning for a new future.  While my mind knows this is the right thing to do and it's what you would want, my heart is struggling.  I pray for a sign, a thought, a feeling, that you're sitting on my shoulder, cheering me on - "Live, Momma!  Go for it!"  In the meantime, I will simply tell you that I love you more than the earth, sky, sun, moon and universe.  I love you to the moon and back, a million times over.

- Momma