It's September, again.
The world keeps turning around, and going around the sun. It seems like it should have stopped, but it didn't. 141 weeks. My brain still tracks the weeks without me even realizing.
Michael is home and gone to school. Linnaea has started first grade. Andrew and Zoey blessed little Ryder. Did you guys hang out together? Did you tell him about the fun times you had with his dad?
The sun sets before 8:00 now, and doesn't rise until 7:00, according to weather stations. Except that doesn't take into account that we live against mountains on the east. It's really more like 8 am. The weather is cooler and school has started. If you were here, you'd be a junior in high school.
I went looking for some stickers today and while I still can't find them, I found a bunch of your things I just put in my closet. There's the white board that we kept track of recent changes on, your meds sheet that listed so many doses! Medications that helped your tattered heart and lungs and brain keep going. I had forgotten that you weren't digesting well at all. We had just changed your feedings to run 100 ml over an hour and a half, less food over a longer period of time. Years ago, you could take in a full feeding of about 250 or 300 ml in about ten minutes.
I think in many ways, I couldn't see the forest for all the trees. Your body was shutting down, but I couldn't see it. I saw it in my mom. I've seen it in others. I knew (at least academically) what the signs were. And yet, I was so preoccupied with keeping your heart beating, your lungs breathing, that I missed it. When you left, I was in shock. I kept sitting there, holding your hand, waiting for it to move, for you to grimace, to cough, something...
But you didn't.
With Michael coming home, I won't be writing weekly emails anymore. For the better part of 13 1/2 years, I wrote emails to your siblings who were gone. I'm not sure what to do with that now. Do I send out a family one? Or do I just write to you? It's like a journal has been taken away.
Tomorrow I'm teaching Young Women's about the blessings of priesthood keys. And once again, I've procrastinated. I mean, it's definitely been on my mind, percolating so to speak. I keep thinking of all the priesthood blessings you received through the years, starting with before you were even born. I remember the stranger, a dad, in the ER. We had to wait outside the room for them to stabilize you before he could come in. I don't know his name, but I will be forever grateful to him. The young men in the hospital, your dad, your brothers who stepped in. And all the prayers offered on your behalf by so many.
And I remember Michael, barely four, asking me if Heavenly Father heard his prayers for you.
I miss you so much, Aaron. It's still strange how life keeps moving forward and sometimes it seems that having you here was just a dream.
Stay close...
Love,
Mama
