I'm angry that you're gone, you left me behind.
I'm angry that I was able to go to the store after work, not worry about needing to be home, and then walking into a home where I didn't need to check in and see how you were doing.
I actually yelled at you (and sobbed) on the way home. "How could you leave me? How could you go?"
I'm angry that I'm getting rid of your equipment, and then when I think I've thought of everything, I remember something else I forgot about.
I'm angry that we have to create a headstone for you, instead of playing and reading you stories.
Daddy has been so caring and tender. He tried to tell me that we didn't have to do it now. It could wait. Except that's not what I meant. I don't want to do it in the same way that I didn't want to figure out your casket. I wanted to go back, spend Christmas in the PICU and bring you home a few days later.
I do need to do it for you. There's so little I can do for you now.
Today before work, Michael and I went to your grave and cleaned off the snow, removing the old flowers and leaving new ones.
Daddy asked me about the scripture I want to put on your marker. He said it almost sounds defiant. It is defiant. I'm defying death. He doesn't get to win. Because of the resurrection, Christ wins, and we will be together again.
And oh, my baby, what a wonderful day that will be.
I miss you.
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