I feel like I am trying to move on without you. Everywhere I turn, I’m reminded that you used to be with me, in my arms, all of the time.
We just sold our house. The house where we started our family. Where I excitedly ran upstairs to barge in on your dad in the bathroom because my pregnancy test showed two lines and I wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. I was pregnant with Alyssa. 12 months later, I was pregnant with lily. And 12 months after lily was born, I was pregnant with you. I remember standing in the closet on the verge of tears because I wasn’t ready to be pregnant again. Your dad was so excited and he convinced me that everything would be ok.
We brought each of you kids home to sanibelle. That was the place where my life was “perfect”. And then, the worst day of my life struck and everywhere I turned, I was reminded of the morning that you passed away. That earth-shattering morning when we had to go home from the hospital without you…back to sanibelle, where my life was far from perfect. So we sold our home. I sold the memories of your death, but not those of your life. I thought it would feel relieving to leave there. I was wrong. As I unpack in your grandparents house, I am faced with constant reminders that you were once mine.
I am trying to move forward, onward, upward…but all I feel is that I’m moving on without you. I’m reminded of the feeling of leaving the hospital without you. It feels wrong. I want to just go to the cemetery and stay there with you, impractical as it may be, that is what feels right. I miss you. I miss your presence. I miss seeing the spot where you died. I miss knowing you were there with me. Even though those memories hurt, they remind me that you were real.
I miss you, son. And I love you so so so much.