Saturday, December 24, 2011
Last night I was filled with sadness. My heart, my mind and my arms physically ached for you. So many tell me you are here with me, just look all around and I do feel you, but I want you physically here with me. I want to feel your skin against mine, I want to smell your baby smell, I want to hear your cries and laughter in excitement. I long for you in my arms, I long for your hugs. I keep telling myself this is going to get easier, but the pain still physically brings me to my knees. There is not a day, a moment when you are not in my heart, my breath, my life. I miss you so much. You would have been 22 months old this Christmas. I can picture you running out with Abby, hand in hand, her guiding you to the tree and I can see the sparkle in your eyes and the delight of you and Abby opening presents. I am so sad inside. I don’t understand why you died, nor will I ever. Some days, I don’t know how I get out of bed,but I know why I do, because of my beautiful little girl that I have been so blessed with and her pain overwhelms me at times too. She just came to me yesterday and said, “Mommy, all I want for Christmas is my brother.” I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to break anymore. I want to go back to February 10th, just to hold you again, to breathe you in. I feel like I am grieving for so many things, friends that use to be in my life that aren't and I know it’s because you died. I have been told that’s all they see when they look at me, the loss of you, well I am sorry, but I can’t go back and if I could I would because going back would mean you will still be alive. I am trying, but the old me is gone, so I mourn for her too. I look at my smile back then; it’s full of shine, brightness and innocence. My eyes are not quite as blue. That is all gone since you passed and that doesn’t mean I don’t feel happiness in my heart. I really do. Abby’s kisses, her hugs, her excitement for life. So God if you are listening, I need you more than anything right now because my heart is split in two. Joy of life and the beauty in my daughter’s eyes, and the heartache and pain of having to cremate a child. I shouldn’t be dusting your urn, I should be picking up your little trucks and trains strewn all over the floor and God I know that he is your little boy in heaven, but I need him so much more. I wonder on Christmas day, if anyone will ask about you and what I want more than anything is for someone to say, we miss him too.
You’re my angel Avery and will always be, and God has enough Angels up there, so won’t you come back home to me?