Broken

Dear Aaron,

I'm starting to feel like a broken record.

Or broken anyway...

Tonight into tomorrow is 42 weeks. (Will these numbers always play in my brain? Will I always know how long it's been?) 

Ten months ago you were admitted for your final time.

Ten weeks from now is your angelversary.

Generally I like numbers. They're predictable, reliable, solid. 

I don't like these. 

It still seems so strange that you're gone, but it's also becoming more .  . . something . . . maybe believable? But I don't want to believe it, or live it.

I still want to go back to last year when I had my innocence, when I thought I understood, knew, and I was so, so wrong. 

I mean, I did know a lot. I knew what it was like to take care of you, to hold you, to rescue you, to plead, cajole, tease you to breathe. I knew what it was like to spend hours on the phone getting your supplies, your meds, trying to organize schedules and nursing. I knew what it was like to hit the ground running every morning at 6, and to finish your meds and tuck you in late at night. I slept in the office across from your room. I drove to Primary's so many times that it was like being on autopilot. We called 911 enough that I started recognizing dispatcher's voices, and we knew the paramedics by first name. And while I did know fear and anxiety, I didn't know grief. Not really.

It's getting so dark. The sun is barely up when I go to work. And it's down by the time I come home. I don't sit on the patio in the evenings anymore. It's getting cold.  

Yesterday was Linnaea's birthday. She's five now. Do you remember when she was born? How excited you were? You had to tell everyone at school that "we have a baby girl!!" I think she still remembers you, but Elend won't, and Sterling and Barrett and any future niblings won't know you in this life. 

Are you playing with them in heaven? Did you bring Sterling and Barrett here? Did you tell them all about us? 

We hear about being mended into something better after breaking, but I don't think anyone talks about the pain of being broken. I have faith that I can find my way, with help,
but right now...

Oh, Aaron, I'm getting used to the quiet, the silence, but tonight it echos so loudly.

I miss you...

Love, 
Mama

“The shattering of a heart when being broken is the loudest quiet ever.”

Carroll Bryant