Dear Aaron

Dear Aaron,

Tonight as I drove home, a blanket of clouds covered our mountains. I come from the west side of the valley, and it was sunny there. But as I looked towards home, to the mountains that gently wrap around you, and our home, I couldn't see
them. And a little to the south, they were dark, ominous. 

As I approached Alpine, and the snow started to hit the windshield, I saw two flocks of small birds, dipping and flying for nearby trees.  

Yeah, spring didn't stick around long before giving way to winter again. As I look out the window right now, there are big fluffy snowflakes falling. It's pretty, I guess, but it was prettier in December than at the end of March. 

I can't help feeling there's many metaphors in here for grief. I know I can feel comfort, and even glimpses of joy, but then the clouds come again, the winds buffet, and I am left searching for refuge. 

Like I know my mountains are somewhere behind the storm, I know you're at peace, healed, whole, but I can't see you.

I did dream about you last night, and it was wonderful. Kinda like my first two dreams, you had passed but then were alive again. Except this time, you died, lived, died and lived again, and I knew in my dream it a was a matter of time before you would be gone for good, but we were given a reprieve. 

I mean, it's what happened in real life, really. I just didn't realize it at the time. As I looked back through my notes trying to find information for another trisomy mama, I looked again at your numbers over the past two years, especially when you were so very critical. It had to have been the power of faith and prayer that kept you here, and frankly, I'm grateful for it. I have been fully transparent this whole journey that I am a greedy person. I wanted every single minute of your life, and then more.  

Today my sweet friend sent me the album of pictures from your services. Oh, Aaron, I'm so grateful for them, and felt the pain again knife through me. What a precious gift she has given us all. 

All the friends and family who came to see you and us, the pictures of closing the casket and our last glimpses of you, your brothers tenderly carrying you to your resting place... 

All the memories...

Oh my son, my dear, dear son. 

What a treasure you are. 

“Memory is not what the heart desires. That is only a mirror.”

— Gimli