Hey Leo,

My letters have become fewer and far less often than when you first left me, but your absence continues to grow in my heart. I know I’ve got some serious walls up. I don’t know how I’d be able to go on without them.

When I think about you for too long, I remember what it felt like to hold you…or what I think it felt like. It’s been so long that I really can’t remember, which intensifies the sadness. I do remember kissing you a million times on your sweet face and little feet, but I don’t remember your smell. My memories are a lot like the photos that I have of you….still images of a moment in time. Just memories; nothing more, nothing less. When I think about what it feels like to be where you are now, I want to grab my shovel and exhume you myself so I can keep you warm and safe. It sounds crazy, I know, I’m pretty sure that other loss parents understand.

But your body is not really you anyway, is it?

When I remember you, I remember your body first. That’s the part of you that I held, kissed, swaddled, adored…that’s the part of you that died. I know your soul lives on somewhere, somehow, and I do find solace in knowing you’re still around in your own way.

But this is all too much.

I’m always thinking of you, but when I’m thinking of you with intention, I feel a pain that is indescribable. I’m flooded by sorrow, regret, anger, longing, guilt, and depression that is beyond the words that our vocabulary has to describe it. So I put up walls to protect myself and those around me. But those walls keep you out and I don’t want that either.

You’ve heard the saying “it’s like a car accident that I can’t not look at”? That’s my grief, my relationship with you. It’s so beautiful and sharply painful at the same time.

I know you’re with me, waiting for me to figure this all out, patiently popping in during the fleeting moments when my heart is the the right place to receive your messages. I know your grave is simply the place where we buried your shell and not all of whatever it is that made you, you. I know for certain that I’ll see you in Heaven and I’ll understand why all of this happened to us.

Until then, it’s just me and my walls and my hot mess of a life trying to make the most of what I’ve got and live the life you and your sisters want for us. I’m trying my best to not block out the good stuff and to leave the trauma in the past. It’s all kind of mixed together still.

I love you with every ounce of my being. I’ve never stopped loving you. I’ll never stop loving you. As long as I’m living, I’ll miss you and and think of you.

I’ll be here, watching for signs in those moments when my walls are down. Maybe someday they’ll be down forever. Who knows?

Until I wake up in heaven, I’ll be here, waiting.

Forever missing you,

Mom