It's Friday night.
Again.
I feel like in some ways I lost my innocence 11 weeks ago.
Eleven weeks ago tonight I went to bed expecting to spend a few more nights on the chair that masquerades as a bed in the PICU, and then come home with you.
Home to Alpine.
It honestly didn't even cross my mind when I went to sleep that you only had another two hours.
And somehow, somehow, I thought that I had already experienced grief, that in some way, having been through anticipatory grief it might lessen, or help me understand, or something, the loss of you.
But I was wrong. So, so, so wrong.
Nothing could have prepared me for this, for life without you. For my heart and lungs to go on when yours do not.
But still, you have left an incredible legacy, and it is so powerful!
Without you, I never would have gone back to school. Our family would be so different, and not in a good way. I never would be where I am, working, helping others. Work went really well today! There were some pretty awesome things happening this week with clients. It's them, not me, but I wouldn't be in a position to help them find their way without your influence, your inspiration.
I left the office on such a high! I was pumped, grateful, smiling. I thought, "This is going to be a good night!"
And then about the time I hit the first light, the tears started. Again. There are a few nights I make it home without crying, but not many yet. I have faith that I'll get there. I have hope that you're watching over me, over us.
I love you, Aaron.
I hope you're happy, running, playing, singing, teasing the others.
I miss you.
Love,
Mama
Grief is your emotions composing a goodbye letter to your loved one.
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