I'm not sure what to even say. I think I'm kinda numb today.
I did finish one of the baby blankets and got the other one started, which I guess is good.
I bought the yarn for Barrett's blanket back in November, just before you were discharged, the week before Thanksgiving, but somehow I just couldn't get it started.
And then when I did, after you left, I realized it was the same yarn I used for your blanket, which brought its own challenges.
I tried, Aaron, I really did. But somehow out of the 25 granny squares (13 of them with teddy bears), I only managed to get seven done. And those were plain ones. It seemed like I would do anything except work on the blanket.
So I gave myself grace and decided that maybe it wasn't the time for this particular blanket.
Today I finished the one for Jonny and Avanlee and started Barrett's. I kinda feel bad. Barrett is almost 5 weeks old, but I'm hoping to finish it this weekend. And it's kinda a fun pattern and colors. I think he'll like it.
Someone came and drove your minivan today. It's hard to let that go, but at the same time, I really hope it gives another person the freedom to get out and about that you enjoyed so much. It's really the last big thing of yours that I still have...
It's been eight weeks. It's starting to not be quite as strange, at least all of the time, but sometimes it still knocks me to my knees. Today while I was out getting the new yarn, I also picked up pansies and a butterfly to put on your grave. When I got there, someone had left a stone heart on your marker. It feels good to know that others are also remembering you.
Love you, little man. Rest easy.
Miss you so much...
"Your memory feels like home to me. So whenever my mind wanders, it always finds its way back to you."
After Lily's van failed to bring her home, I couldn't bring myself to drive it again. She rode front passenger in ours, so all I could see was how she wasn't there. I still tear up thinking of that pain, how raw it was. I was angry with the world, angry how many children I love survived when mine did not. I was even angry at my anger, because jealousy of my friends who still feared the worst nightmare I was living made me feel horrible about myself.
ReplyDeleteSelling Lily's van brought me a lot of peace. I remember how desperately we needed it when her baby sister's arrival meant our family of now five no longer fit in our eight passenger vehicle, how hard it had become for me to lift her. I knew other parents were still facing those battles for their little ones.
Since her van left our driveway, I no longer see the empty space where she should be. Instead, I see her face as we drove up Victory Road from behind the capital building on the way to Primary Children's. The road is steep there; as it rises up, there is the most incredible view of the Salt Lake Valley. Watching Lily's awestruck face, I had to pull over for a few moments because I was as in awe of her and her sense of wonder as she was with the incredible view.
We were late to that appointment. It felt irresponsible at the time, yet I cherish that memory. It gives me peace in the knowledge that I helped my little girl live to the fullest all the days of her life until it was time to return Home.
That's how I see Aaron with you, where love made impossible things come to life, living to his fullest until it was time for him, too, to go Home.