Part of Me is Missing

Hey kiddo,

Your teacher sent me a text today. 

Next week is your dance festival and your class is dedicating their number to you. The teachers want to put your name on their sleeve. Sweet boy, you have touched so many...

I don't know if I can go, but we'll see.

And then Michael's graduation.

And then Memorial Day.

And your birthday...

Sigh......

I picked up your things again tonight, just like I do every Tuesday night and thought about what to do for Memorial Day and your birthday. Every year for the past many, Daddy has taken flowers around to all the family graves. It takes alllll day to do them; some in Salt Lake, and then more up in Logan.

But somehow I can't just see putting a potted mum on your site and walking away. That doesn't seem quite enough. 

But I don't know what to do. Anything we do seems so small, so inadequate in comparison to what you are. I'm hoping that by your birthday, your stone can be installed. It's pushing it, but maybe... One way or another, it will happen this summer, I just wish it was sooner rather than later. 

I'm so tired....

Bone deep, soul stabbing, emotionally exhausted. 

I try to function, and I put on a pretty good show.

But underneath it all, part of me is missing.

Love you, miss you,
Mama

"Moments before our walk that afternoon; I realized the path ended too soon."

— Kelly Horn