As I drove to the cemetery this morning to put your butterflies and lights back out, the sun was peeking over the mountains.
Morning, sunrise again.
Somehow this world keeps on turning.
And yet, as I drove, I remembered back when Michael was playing soccer on a team that struggled.
And he was keeper because, of course, why not?
When the keeper ends up facing 30-40 shots in a half, there's a breakdown up the line, but still, he's the last line of defense and it can be pretty demoralizing, 'cause you know some of those shots are going through.
I would call his name and hold up three fingers.
Sometimes, maybe most of the time, he would straighten his shoulders, nod, fix a look of determination on his face, and get his head back in the game.
Three things: Dad and I love you, God loves you, and the sun will come up tomorrow.
So life goes on, somehow. And so do I, sorta.
It's been eight months tonight since I kissed you goodnight and settled into the chair-bed behind your hospital bed.
Just after midnight will be eight months since your heart slowed and stopped, and mine seemed to lose its own rhythm.
I realized today what a blessing to me it actually was to have you go before Michael left. When you went, he was still here, and shortly after Jonny and Avanlee and Elend were here. They stayed for two months, left briefly and then were back for another month. Michael just left yesterday. As excruciating as it was to live through your death, I had distractions. To have come home to this silence from the hospital would have been unbearable.
Honestly, I'm still not sure how I walked out of there without you, and how we made it home.
I miss you, Aaron, I really do. And I need to get my head back in the game, 'cause while your whistle has blown, mine has not.
Are you hanging out at the MTC with Michael? Is he aware of your presence? He needed a key chain he could take with him, and when I asked if he wanted the little one with your name on it, I barely finished the question before he exclaimed, "Yes!"
He carries you with him in so many ways. I hope you carry him as well.
Love you, little man.
Love,
Mama
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