One Month...

Tonight marks one month since I last told you goodnight.

And just after midnight will be one month since your last heartbeat. 

It is still so surreal... 

Somehow I'm carried through the day. I (think) I'm functioning and even doing okay. 

And sometimes nights aren't horrific, sometimes...

But last night I realized I'm almost out of time to pull video off the ring camera so I was going through those. 

I watched you playing, Daddy reading to you, you getting ready for school and coming home, and me taking you to your last appointment at the hospital. 

And I watched you going out the door with the paramedics. 

You never came back.

That's not the way it was supposed to happen. At least not in my mind and my plans.

But Father had other plans, and I know, I really do know, that for you they were much better than mine. 

You were so tired, so weary. You held on for so long. It was your time, and both Daddy and I knew it, sorta. We were being prepared, nudges and whispers from heaven. That does help, but only so much.

The waves of grief are less violent most of the time, but sometimes it feels like I'm back in a hurricane, being battered and tossed and my soul cries out for you. 

My sweet boy. I miss you dreadfully. I wish you were here, for just another moment. Except then I'd want more. 

"I didn't want to kiss you goodbye. I wanted to kiss you goodnight. 
There is a difference."

Ernest Hemingway