It’s been a little over 2 years since I held you, kissed you, smelled your sweet baby smell, or heard your deep cry and still, I struggle.
I struggle to breathe when I try to remember what holding you felt like, I struggle to think when I try to remember our last moments alive together, and I struggle to go on when I remember what it felt like to place my hand on your ice cold arm.
I find myself rolling the question “why?” around inside my head more and more these days. It’s like a bad song that you can’t get out of your head; an “ear worm” as your sisters would call it.
There aren’t words in our vast and colorful vocabulary to appropriately describe the depth of my sadness and resentment surrounding your death. I just want you back. One simple request but an extremely complicated desire.
I look at pictures of you and every single time I do, there is an earthquake inside of my heart. I see you and it reminds me of your absence, I feel sad, I feel grateful, I want to die, and I want to live a life so full that it’s plain to see why I had to stay here without you. My broken heart continues to fracture and shift, creating mountain peaks and valleys.
Today, I sit at your feet…above your feet, really, and my heart is deep in a valley filled with the shadows of your death. I do fear evil but I also know that God is with me.
So tonight, I’ll say a prayer, asking God to shine down on me, to remind me that He didn’t cruelly rip you from my arms, that He didn’t leave my life in shambles, that my broken heart can be put together again but that He will have to fill in the gaps.
I love you my sweet boy. I owe so much of my faith to you and I can’t tell you how blessed I feel to be your mama.
All my love,