I miss you so much. I would give anything to be able to kiss your soft cheek again, to breathe in your smell, everything about you. But it would never be enough. How would I ever be able to let you go? I still don’t understand sometimes how I have even made it this long without you, how I got through those first months when I was operating in trauma mode, as if I were under attack, how I am learning to live without you, even though I will never accept that you are not here.
I wish that I had your 11 month picture to post. Instead, when I arrived at the cemetery a few weeks ago, I saw that they had put your stone in. I am including it here (with last name blocked out). It is beautiful, in a tragic sort of way. But it is nice, and I think it is a stone that you would be proud to have.
We were at a park on Sunday, and Eli asked if he was still a big brother. I said yes, that he would always be a big brother. Just like you will always be my second son. Just like I will always want you and love you. Nothing can ever change that. Eli and I read the book ‘the invisible string’ sometimes, and we talk about how nothing can break the invisible string between a mother and her children. My string is still firmly connected to you.
We are approaching the time last year when I was really starting to get ready to bring you home. I had put a plan in place for colleagues to finish my classes if you were to have come early, and we started looking through Eli’s old baby clothes and washing them so that they would all be ready for you. Passover also came later in the year last year, towards the end of April. We went to the seder at a friends’ home, and everyone eagerly talked about your arrival. Less than a week later, you were born. This coming Monday night, we will all go back to seder at the same house, but you won’t be with us. I miss you so much.
I am starting to think about what we should do on the year anniversary of your birth. I have a few ideas. I think I will ask everyone to do something kind for themselves or someone else, so that your existence will make the world a little bit better of a place. And I may ask people to send me stones from special places so that I can put the stones on your grave, and know that people are thinking of you. But how to mark the actual day? Maybe we will go to the beach and set up some safe-for-the-environment flaming lanterns. Maybe I will stay in bed and not get out. Maybe I will visit the cemetery. I don’t know. Nothing feels quite right. How could it, without you?
I love you, Sidney Louis. I will always love you. Nothing can ever change that.
Always and forever.