I Can't Look At The Stars

Peanut -

Today has been a bad day.  A hard day.  Momma has struggled to be "OK" today.  It's the first time, in a long time, that I've had the urge to simply crawl into bed and never crawl out.  And then I heard this amazing song by Grace Potter and the Nocturnals (lyrics below).  Her voice, the words...they echo my soul crying for you tonight.  Every night.  Forever.

I miss you.  I long for the space to grieve for you.  I want to be with you.    I miss you and love you.  To the moon - and back.

- Momma

I lit a fire with the love you left behind, 
And it burned wild and crept up the mountainside. 
I followed your ashes into outer space 
I can't look out the window, 
I can't look at this place, 

I can't look at the stars, 
They make me wonder where you are 
Stars, 
Up on heaven's boulevard 
And if I know you at all, 
I know you've gone too far 
So I, I can't look at the stars 

All those times we looked up at the sky, 
Looking out so far, 
We felt like we could fly. 
And now I'm all alone in the dark of night, 
The moon is shining, 
But I can't see the light, 
And I can't look at the 

Stars, 
They make me wonder where you are 
Stars, 
Up on heaven's boulevard 
And if I know you at all, 
I know you've gone too far 
So I, I can't look at the stars 

Stars, 
Stars, 
They make me wonder where you are 
Stars, 
Up on heaven's boulevard 
And if I know you at all, 
I know you've gone too far 
So I can't look at the stars.

Peanut's Month

Peanut -

Today is the first day of September.  This month will always be Peanut's Month.  Your birthday is in 12 days...you should be turning three this year.

Three years ago we welcomed you into this world with delight and big dreams.  Momma discovered her heart, and the meaning of Momma love.

Two years ago we celebrated your first birthday with an Elmo themed party and loads of gifts you were meant to grow into over the coming years.  You had just transitioned to a sippy cup, real milk, and big boy meals at school.  Everything was clicking in place, you had discovered words, laughter and a wicked sense of humor, and Momma began to see the little man - the little personality - that was so perfectly Peanut.

One year ago we gathered with family and friends the weekend before your birthday to remember and celebrate your very big but too short life.  We asked everyone to come armed with stories and letters - written to you and about you - for the little brother we were expecting.  On your actual birthday, Momma and Dadda visited each of the tributes and memorials dedicated to you.  Trees, froggy statues, paver stones...they all mean so very much to us.  They announce to the world, "Peanut lived.  Peanut still lives on, and impacts the world every day in so many magical ways."

This year we will bring The Pickle to all these locations, and more.  We will visit the Butterfly House and explain how your spirit floats on the wings of each of these beautiful creatures.  Every time one flits by, we are touched by our Peanut.  Maybe we'll even have lunch at one of your famous diaper blowout spots, so we can laugh and cry and tell some of your hilarious stories.

More than anything, we will celebrate you.  Not just on September 12.  Not just during this wonderful month that knew you twice.  This month that welcomes the crisper weather of fall, that transitions the midwest into yet another season without Peanut.  But each and every moment of every day.  In every action, every word, every decision.  That, my sweet son, is your Peanut Effect.

Sending you bunches and noodles of love, to the moon - and back!

- Momma

Teeny, tiny Peanut at five days old.

Piggy Banks

Peanut -

We bid Big Cedar Lodge "farewell" today after a terrific, fun week with your little brother.  It was a good week.  A great week.  We laughed a lot.  We talked about you. Shared stories.  And felt some (a lot of) heartache.  But more than anything, we felt your presence.

You will be with us every step of the way, as we navigate the future.  You will be sitting on Momma's shoulder as we stack blocks on the floor, making your brother belly laugh.  You will be the butterfly flitting by as we splash around in the baby pool.  You will be with us as we prepare Pickle for school and sports.  You will ride shotgun with him as he experiences his first date. College. Marriage.  Kids.  All the dreams we had for you.

This week Dadda and I wound up with a handful of one dollar coins.  Initially, Momma thought we should just spend the coins.  That idea gave way to the thought of placing the coins in The Pickle's piggy bank.  But Dadda had a better idea.  Let's divide the coins and put half in Peanut's bank and half in Pickle's bank.  Genius.  Perfect.  Done.

Your bank is going to continue to grow.  Why?  Because you still influence and change this world.  This is your legacy.  Your Peanut Effect. And, someday, that money will go to charity.  That piggy bank is yours, and one more thing we will share with your brother.  With love.

Guess how much Momma loves you.  Thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis much - and more.  To the moon...and back.

- Momma

Grace

Peanut -

Momma, Dadda and The Pickle packed our bags and hit the road yesterday for our annual trip to Big Cedar Lodge.  Family vacation.  Last year this was The Saddest Vacation Ever.  And now, it is one full of new joy and laughter thanks to your brother.  But, still, your absence looms large.

The Lodge has week of Labor Day celebrations and games targeted to kids, and you would just be at the age where all this activity would be terrific fun.  Three years old.  Ice cream socials on the lawn, fishing competitions, boat and pony rides, put-put golf...all things we planned to do with you.  It's why we chose this week - for you.  And now, it will be for your little brother.

I went back and read my letter to you from this day last year.  Peanut Vacation - Without Peanut (8-26-11)  We were almost six months pregnant last August, and were struggling to find hope while grappling with the quiet and emptiness.  Dadda and I were so worried this vacation was a terrible idea, but then we got here and it was like magic.  We felt you everywhere.  In everything.  Every activity.  Every sunset.  It was during this week that Momma's heart truly started to heal.

Now we are going to share this place - its magic, the stories of your visit when you were just about to turn one, the memories - with The Pickle.  Being here, relaxing and having fun, is bittersweet.  Dadda and I discussed last night how the loss of you has motivated us to live life with more meaning.  With appreciation.  With the knowledge it could all disappear in a moment.  This brings to mind a quote:

"Grace doesn't depend on suffering to exist, but where there is suffering you will find grace in many facets and colors."

Dadda and I strive to live with grace.  Because of you.  For you.  Peanut, in life and loss you truly make us better.  In this way, you live on.  In our hearts, minds, actions, and interactions.  Your Peanut Effect.

I can feel you, surrounding us in this beautiful place.  It makes missing you a little less sharp.  Sending you love, joy, appreciation, tinged with sorrow.  To the mooooooooon and back!

- Momma

Peanut's first taste of McDonald's during the drive to Big Cedar.

The Peanutmobile

Peanut -

Today started out like most other Monday mornings.  Alarm at 5:30 am, mad dash to get Momma showered and dressed, get your brother fed and bathed, hit the road for grandma and grandpa's house, a quick hand-off and kisses bye-bye, then race to the office for an 8:00 am meeting.  Whew.

But after work, things took an unexpected turn.  Momma and Dadda met for dinner, with your tired little brother in tow, then we visited the car dealership.  And, a little after 9:00 pm we left with a new car.  New car?!  That was the last thing Momma thought we would do today.

This is exactly what happened the day we bought The Peanutmobile.  It was a strangely warm, foggy night in January 2010.  You were 4 months old, and Momma had a nasty sinus infection.  Dadda and I had admired this car for a few months, talked about buying it, then BAM!  Dadda went out and struck a deal.  Despite Momma's sinus issues and crankiness, we signed all the paperwork and drove home surrounded by new car smell and dreams of taking such good care of this car we might eventually pass it along to you.

That car became YOUR car.  Sporty, shiny black, dark tinted windows, creamy tan leather interior.  We laughed about you rolling up to daycare in your slick ride, "Hey ladies!  Here comes Peanut in The Peanutmobile!"  I can still see the dents in the backseat leather where your pumpkin seat was installed that first year.  When I glance in the rearview mirror, I still view your giant, toothy smile, right next to your little brother's reflection.

I'll never forget the first time I drove your car after you passed away.  Your car seat was gone.  Your reflection, nowhere to be found.  Where is Peanut? asked the rearview mirror.  The interior was too quiet, aching for your laughter and babbling.

That car knew you.  It still knows you.

And now...Momma has a new car.  A car more suited to yucky St. Louis winter weather, with ice and slick snow.  A bigger, heavier car made to protect Momma and The Pickle - especially during Momma's killer commute.  But, still...this is yet one more door closing.  Sort of.  More like it's left ajar.  The Peanutmobile will now be Dadda's car.  It's not leaving the family, and Momma can still drive it, and visit that reflection in the mirror.

While we completed the paperwork this evening, the finance manager looked at The Pickle and asked, "Is this your only one?"  Oh Peanut, I didn't have the heart.  We will never see this woman again, and, quite frankly I didn't WANT to share you with her.  I hope that decision didn't hurt your feelings.  The decision to share is so situational...this time it just didn't feel "right."

I hope and pray you understand all these changes.  That you watch these events and smile, encouraging us to continue to move forward.  More than anything, I desperately hope you know how much I love you.  How much?  Oh Peanut, to the moon - and back!

- Momma

Peanut, livin' large on his Tonka Truck.