Somehow it's hitting harder.
Again.
I'm not sure why. I mean, the pain has been quieter, deeper, less obvious.
But my birthday was last week, and I've been missing Gramma more. How am I supposed to do my birthday without the woman who gave me life, and the son I gave life to?
Yesterday I bought some things for Daddy's birthday and the woman at the register recognized me as "Aaron's Mom." I was so touched. What an honor to be your mom. Today I got out of the car at the cemetery for the first time in a long time and touched your picture, your stone.
And wept.
I don't cry every day anymore. Probably not even every week.
But my body and brain still remember how long it has been.
133 weeks.
Forever it seems.
I sit on the back patio and hear the chirp and twitter of the hummingbirds, the hum of the A/C, the slight rustle of the leaves in the trees, and the sounds of teens playing in the park across town. Peaceful. The soft clouds cover the sky and the last pinks of the sunset touch the undersides of them to the northwest, above the neighbor's playset.
And I wonder if you see it, too.
I remember several years ago declining a candy because it was offered to everyone who would have a birthday that year, and I struggled with the idea that someday I would have birthdays that you would not be here for. Someday, your birthdays on this earth would end, and somehow, inexplicably, mine would continue.
Your Michael comes home from his mission in six weeks. Andrew mentioned that it will be good to have a little brother again. He said with Michael gone, and you gone, he's felt like he didn't have any younger brothers, and that was weird. I hadn't thought of how this affected him, or Michael, at least not in those terms.
Andrew and Zoey's little one will be coming any day now. Are you guys playing? Have you told him all about how much he is already loved? How you know this because you were so dearly loved?
I miss you!!
The waves are crashing again.
And I feel like I'm drowning.
Be close, please...
Love,
Mama