A Letter to My Firstborn

Dear Beloved Firstborn,

The amount I miss you, the literal, physical ache I have for us to be together hasn’t diminished, not even slightly. What may hurt the most is knowing that in this life it never will. 

You will always be my son, my firstborn, but assuming life goes the way it should this time, there will come a day that you will no longer be my oldest. What a sick, twisted reality. I’m guessing that you knew before your Daddy and I did that you were going to be a brother. That’s likely one of the “perks” of being in Heaven. While there will be no trendy picture with you announcing this news to the world, I have no doubts you know it.

April Fools'

So many times I have felt like the “joke” is on me. Only there’s nothing funny about losing a child or feeling like a fool.   

Today happens to mark a point in time that I have painfully anticipated since losing you. When measuring the passing of time in days, this day is an equivalent to the worst day of my life. Today I have been without you for the exact number of days that I had you, yet you did not live your last day in it’s entirety and I in fact never even got to see you alive that day. It seems impossible to me that after today I somehow will have been without you for longer than I had you here. With this passing of time I miss you no less.   

Snow Boots

Snow. There shouldn't be any reason to grieve when it comes to snow. Oh, but there is. I can't help but wonder what my almost three year old would think of something as ordinary as snow. My mind conjures up an image. I can almost picture him, bundled up, rosy cheeks, laughing as he waddles around. Almost. Not quite. It's fuzzy. Anyway, it’s only a fantasy. My thoughts turn to reality. I think of how he was too little to really enjoy the couple of snows we experienced together, although he did laugh out loud as my parent’s dog chased and dove for snow balls. It is real, a wonderful memory so it shouldn't be fuzzy, but it is. That adds another layer of pain.