I actually dreamed of you about a week ago, too, but it was different.
In the first dream, you were in the recovery area of the hospital (instead of the PICU) but you had already passed, and then you just woke up! It was actually a lot like I kept hoping for in those early hours of the 23rd. I kept waiting for you to move, your chest to rise, to come back to me. But you didn't. Not in "real life." In my dream a week ago, you did! I ran out and told the staff, and they were happy but it was almost if they had expected it. But you were still in the mortal body that I knew, the one that held you back and struggled.
Last night was different. I think we were in a hospital then too, maybe. But you didn't have your g-tube, or trach, or any of the other "accessories" that were so much a part of your life here.
You did have your smile, the one that would light up the room, and you laughed. You sat and supported yourself. I held you like I would any other small child. Your body was whole. It was you, my son, and you were so happy, and so at peace. And you looked at me as if to say, "I know, Mom, I know you hurt, but I'm doing so great! I miss you. I love you."
Oh my boy, I just held you and smiled, and loved the feel of you in my arms again. I even woke with a smile, and a sense of comfort that lasted for several hours.
Michael went back to school today and Daddy and I back to work for the first full week since you passed. Someone asked how I could be there. But the reality is, if I wait for the pain to fully heal, I will never work again in this life. I have faith that I will learn to live with your loss, but there will always be an Aaron-sized hole in my heart.
My sweet angel.
I miss you.
Please come visit again, soon.
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