Marking Time

Dear Aaron,

Yesterday was your Andrew's birthday. You are so special to him. He had someone ask him how he could believe in believe in God after losing you at such a young age. He replied, "The reality is that I didn’t lose anybody the night he died. Because of God and his son Jesus Christ, families are forever. There is a God and his plan is perfect." I am so grateful for his testimony, for his strength and courage. He is an amazing young man.

I know those things are true, but I also feel like I'm walking through a fog, marking time.

And maybe that's what it is: marking time. Clocks tick, the sun comes up and goes down. Get up, go to work, come home, go to bed. Do other things in between. Weeks pass... Still passing... You're still not here. It's two weeks tomorrow until your 15th birthday. 

It's getting hot again, into the 90's this week. I'm wearing shorter sleeves and your trach beads on my watch band are catching people's eyes. I mean, they just look like a nice beaded watch band and so I've been asked where I got it. Sometimes I tell them where they came from; sometimes I just say I made it. Sometimes I can explain; other times I just can't. 

Someone destroyed about half the butterflies on your grave between Monday and Tuesday. It hurt, and I was angry! I mean, I know I screwed up as a mom, on more than one occasion (even if your siblings won't usually admit it). But I never let them, even as toddlers and babies, destroy someone else's things. When we were out in public, or other places, I watched them or made sure someone else did! Some people suggested that it was unreasonable to expect them to be left alone, or that maybe it was a bored kid. I wanted to ask if someone destroyed things on their loved one's grave if that would be okay, but I didn't. So Tuesday I was angry. 

Yesterday I broke down. 

And now, now I feel numb.

Next week I'm going to see Grampa for the first time since Gramma's funeral. 

I miss you, Aaron. I miss her. Her roses are blooming nicely in the little garden. Your clematis is kinda struggling a bit. It might be too warm where it is, but I'm hoping I can nurse it to a more sturdy plant. Anyway, I feel like I'm rambling, and perhaps I am. 

Your Scout dog is in the front room now and Linnaea found it. She was playing with it, and it caught both me and Andrew a little off guard to hear it say, "My favorite color is red! Is that your favorite too, Aaron?" Both a smile and a tear... 

Oh baby, 75 weeks tomorrow since your eyes last opened.

I miss you.

Love,
Mama

“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.”

― Laurell K. Hamilton