Summer is coming. School is almost out. And the windows are open.
Curtains drift back and forth in the breeze and wind chimes sing gently outside the window.
It's quiet, peaceful as I wait for Michael to come home. A balm for my soul.
This week hurts. Mother's Day was Sunday but you're gone. Kingston grew his wings. Gramma is really sick and we're still looking for answers. Please be by Gramma's side, but don't take her with you yet. I still need her. Today I wondered if you and Nana and Papa were all watching over her, parents and grandson comforting her.
Tonight when I went to see you, there was a fresh grave dug just to the east of you, only a couple spots away. I looked into the hole and while we always talk about "six feet down", I was caught off guard. I've never looked into an empty, waiting grave site. And those six feet, the thought of you being so far down... Well, I was gutted all over again.
Somehow I've sobbed more (even wailed) than I think I have for a very long time. It's ripping at me again.
But tonight I can think of you and smile, even if the smile is a little sad.
It's been 21 weeks Aaron. 21 weeks since I last saw you awake, almost to the minute.
And in one hour and 53 minutes it will be 21 weeks since your last heartbeat.
I love you, my son, my own guardian angel. I hear you in the chimes, feel your soft spirit in the breeze, and somehow it brings comfort to my aching soul.
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