My Own Broken Heart

Someone sent this today. 
Oh, my smiley boy... 

Hey Aaron,

Today I was back at Primary's for the first time since leaving you there. I had a meeting at the Eccles building and it wasn't too bad. That's probably due to two things: you didn't usually go to those meetings, and your niece provided a nice distraction. (She was soooo good and charmed everyone.) It was good to see people, but also a little bittersweet because with the new campus opening, I won't be going to any of those meetings anymore. I'm having to change my day off to make it to the new hospital council meetings. So that went okay although next week I'm supposed to present at the department heads meeting in the main building. That may be a bit harder. 

After, we went to American Fork Hospital to see your new nephew. He really is the cutest. Did you guys play together before he came? Did you bring him to his mom? Does he know you? I really hope so. 

And then we left, and there was your school. It's right across the street from the hospital. Linnaea asked if we could go there and see you. Oh baby... 

I wish so badly that we could. I had to tell her that you aren't there; you're in heaven. 

"Why?"

Because your heart was worn out and it just stopped, and now you're with Jesus.  And my heart broke (again). 

I often wonder how it can go on breaking over and over . . . but somehow it does. 

It's a little easier when I stay busy, and today was really busy. But then at night, it gets quiet and I let myself think of you. I remember your laughs and your smiles, and your goofy sense of humor. I miss drawing up your meds and getting your food. I miss you playing with your toys, and tucking you in at night. I miss getting up and taking the noisy toys away that you found in the dark and woke me with. 

I still wake up at night, multiple times. It's quiet and dark and I no longer sleep in my office. 

Mornings are hard, too. For so long I had to be up and running at 6 to get your treatments done, to give the meds that had to be done on an empty stomach before your first feeding.  I'd get those done and start your shake vest.  Once you were set, I'd finally start getting ready myself but it didn't take that long because I'd shower at night when there was someone to listen for you. 

Now, I can shower whenever I want, and when I do I often cry. And I have a hard time getting out of bed in the first place. It all seems pointless. 

I do it anyway because even though you're gone, life still goes on here, on this side of heaven.  I have to go to work. The dogs need taking care of. Michael and Dad and Jonny, Avanlee and Elend are all here. So in spite of a repeatedly breaking heart, I keep going, keep trying, even through the heartache of missing you. 

Love you, my little man. Send me kisses on the breeze... 

“The reality is that you will grieve forever. 

You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it. 

You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered.” 

- Elisabeth Kubler-Ross