Dear Andrew,
As we were leaving your grave today, Liam said "bye bye ACHOO". It was equal parts joyful and heartbreaking. Liam said your name! His brother's name!!! And then I realised he could have said it so much earlier if he grew up with you.
What would you two be like together? Would Liam follow you around in adoration like he does with his cousin Lucas? Would you be a doting big brother leading him astray? What trouble would you two be getting up to? What would our life look like? I always wonder about this when I see Liam with your cousin. It's a small window into what life could have been like. We could have been a happy family of four. Instead of a family of four where one is always missing.
I feel your loss every day. Every day I feel like someone is missing and every day I wonder what today would be like with you here.
I love you.
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Dear Andrew,
I know I haven't written in awhile but you know that I always talk to you. You are my constant companion and I imagine that you always will be now.
Christmas was hard this year. You should be 2.5. Christmas should have been exciting to see through your eyes. We would have been laughing and watching with joy as you excitedly opened your Santa presents. We did this with your brother but at 17 months he didn't know what was going on.
It broke my heart this year buying your Christmas presents to donate to other children. It's lovely to know someone your age is enjoying your presents but it doesn't make buying them any easier. I was standing in Smyths completely overwhelmed by what to buy. Eventually I made a decision but it was hard. I wondered what you would have asked for on your Santa list. Would you have wanted Legos like your brother or Paw Patrol? Would you be into something else like Sesame Street? I don't even know what a 2.5 year old likes and it's hard to accept that I'll never know what you would have enjoyed.
For Christmas we stopped by your grave and gave you a little paw patrol dog. We had to hide it from Liam or he would have claimed it as his own. Christmas Day is always a hard day for your father and I. To me, Christmas is for children. To see the joy and wonder and excitement through a child's eyes. The fact that we will never see Christmas through your eyes makes it such a hard time of year.
I know I haven't written in awhile but you know that I always talk to you. You are my constant companion and I imagine that you always will be now.
Christmas was hard this year. You should be 2.5. Christmas should have been exciting to see through your eyes. We would have been laughing and watching with joy as you excitedly opened your Santa presents. We did this with your brother but at 17 months he didn't know what was going on.
It broke my heart this year buying your Christmas presents to donate to other children. It's lovely to know someone your age is enjoying your presents but it doesn't make buying them any easier. I was standing in Smyths completely overwhelmed by what to buy. Eventually I made a decision but it was hard. I wondered what you would have asked for on your Santa list. Would you have wanted Legos like your brother or Paw Patrol? Would you be into something else like Sesame Street? I don't even know what a 2.5 year old likes and it's hard to accept that I'll never know what you would have enjoyed.
For Christmas we stopped by your grave and gave you a little paw patrol dog. We had to hide it from Liam or he would have claimed it as his own. Christmas Day is always a hard day for your father and I. To me, Christmas is for children. To see the joy and wonder and excitement through a child's eyes. The fact that we will never see Christmas through your eyes makes it such a hard time of year.
Monday, March 30, 2015
Dear Andrew,
Life is just moving too quickly. I was thinking today about how it's been nearly two years since we lost you. How is that possible? Some days it feels like it only happened yesterday and other times it feels like it happened to someone else. It feels like a lifetime ago but the pain still feels so fresh. It's a confusing feeling.
Your little brother changes daily. He's growing and learning and becoming his own little person. I don't see you in him anyone the way I did in the beginning. And a part of me is sad about that. I can't see past what you looked like as a newborn. I can't compare you two. It ended after your brother was born. There was no more to compare. And that is devastating. Just another layer of loss that no one thinks about.
I find myself very emotional randomly. I can be doing something mundane and you just pop into my head. Not a day goes by where I don't think of you at least once but if I am honest I think about you multiple times a day. I miss you so much and grieve for your daily. It might not be as raw as it was nearly two years ago but it is still there. I still miss you and wonder about you and think about you and love you.
Life is just moving too quickly. I was thinking today about how it's been nearly two years since we lost you. How is that possible? Some days it feels like it only happened yesterday and other times it feels like it happened to someone else. It feels like a lifetime ago but the pain still feels so fresh. It's a confusing feeling.
Your little brother changes daily. He's growing and learning and becoming his own little person. I don't see you in him anyone the way I did in the beginning. And a part of me is sad about that. I can't see past what you looked like as a newborn. I can't compare you two. It ended after your brother was born. There was no more to compare. And that is devastating. Just another layer of loss that no one thinks about.
I find myself very emotional randomly. I can be doing something mundane and you just pop into my head. Not a day goes by where I don't think of you at least once but if I am honest I think about you multiple times a day. I miss you so much and grieve for your daily. It might not be as raw as it was nearly two years ago but it is still there. I still miss you and wonder about you and think about you and love you.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Dear Andrew,
This past weekend was mother's day. I thought that having Liam this year would make the day pass a little easier. And it did help but I was surprised at how sad the weekend made me as well. It's our second mother's day without you. Last year was unbearable. I couldn't cope and was just counting down the days to getting your brother safely here. But this year, he is here safely and I still felt an overwhelming sadness at how different life should be.
I have found myself wondering more and more what life would be like with the two of you. We were watching a baby on you tube who is a couple months younger than you should be right now and Liam was laughing away. I couldn't help but wonder how much he would love you and laugh at you if you were here now. Would you two be best buddies? Crawling and running around the house? What would life look like with the two of you in it? I guess it's something that I will forever be wondering about.
When we lost you we didn't just lose a baby. We lost a life with you. We lost you as a baby, a toddler, a child, a teenager, and an adult. I am seeing this more and more as your brother grows and discovers new things. We missed so many things with you and all I am left with is this sadness and morbid curiosity of what life could have been like.
I miss you so much. More and more each day. I love you baby boy. xx
This past weekend was mother's day. I thought that having Liam this year would make the day pass a little easier. And it did help but I was surprised at how sad the weekend made me as well. It's our second mother's day without you. Last year was unbearable. I couldn't cope and was just counting down the days to getting your brother safely here. But this year, he is here safely and I still felt an overwhelming sadness at how different life should be.
I have found myself wondering more and more what life would be like with the two of you. We were watching a baby on you tube who is a couple months younger than you should be right now and Liam was laughing away. I couldn't help but wonder how much he would love you and laugh at you if you were here now. Would you two be best buddies? Crawling and running around the house? What would life look like with the two of you in it? I guess it's something that I will forever be wondering about.
When we lost you we didn't just lose a baby. We lost a life with you. We lost you as a baby, a toddler, a child, a teenager, and an adult. I am seeing this more and more as your brother grows and discovers new things. We missed so many things with you and all I am left with is this sadness and morbid curiosity of what life could have been like.
I miss you so much. More and more each day. I love you baby boy. xx
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Dear Andrew,
You've been on my mind more than usual lately. The thought of you is constantly dancing in the back of my head. I can't shake this feeling that life seems so unfair. I still desperately want you here. It's a feeling that I doubt will ever go away.
I've made peace with the fact you aren't here (for the most part) but at the same time I've become bitter as well that you aren't here. I'm angry that we had to lose you. I'm angry that we had to experience losing you. It's tainted so many things since your death. And I'm frustrated that most people don't understand. I guess you could say I have a million different feelings that are going a million different directions when it comes to you and losing you. Your death changed our lives so much. It impacted every corner of our lives and they will never be the same again. And I'm angry about that. And slightly bitter.
I love you so much and still want to talk about you all the time. I find myself slipping you into conversation just to prove that you did exist. Just so I can somehow speak your name out loud. But then it doesn't change anything. And I go back to being slightly bitter because most of the people who I mention your name around become uncomfortable.
Since your brother has arrived people keep referring to him as my first. The first child, the first grandchild. But your brother isn't the first! He's the second. You are the first and always will be. I don't understand how people can just brush your short life under the carpet and pretend you don't exist. I guess the difference for them is they didn't spend 41 weeks bonding with you. They didn't hold your 8 pound 15 ounce lifeless body. They didn't look at their perfect tiny baby and cry with such an overwhelming sadness that they thought they would be consumed by it. And I was consumed by it. IT took a long time to emerge from that fog. The fog that still envelops me from time to time.
As I sit here thinking about you I am still overwhelmingly sad. It's not the type of sadness where I can't get out of bed but more like a heavy presence that makes the world a bit less colorful. And that's exactly it. The world has become a little bit duller to me since you left it.
You've been on my mind more than usual lately. The thought of you is constantly dancing in the back of my head. I can't shake this feeling that life seems so unfair. I still desperately want you here. It's a feeling that I doubt will ever go away.
I've made peace with the fact you aren't here (for the most part) but at the same time I've become bitter as well that you aren't here. I'm angry that we had to lose you. I'm angry that we had to experience losing you. It's tainted so many things since your death. And I'm frustrated that most people don't understand. I guess you could say I have a million different feelings that are going a million different directions when it comes to you and losing you. Your death changed our lives so much. It impacted every corner of our lives and they will never be the same again. And I'm angry about that. And slightly bitter.
I love you so much and still want to talk about you all the time. I find myself slipping you into conversation just to prove that you did exist. Just so I can somehow speak your name out loud. But then it doesn't change anything. And I go back to being slightly bitter because most of the people who I mention your name around become uncomfortable.
Since your brother has arrived people keep referring to him as my first. The first child, the first grandchild. But your brother isn't the first! He's the second. You are the first and always will be. I don't understand how people can just brush your short life under the carpet and pretend you don't exist. I guess the difference for them is they didn't spend 41 weeks bonding with you. They didn't hold your 8 pound 15 ounce lifeless body. They didn't look at their perfect tiny baby and cry with such an overwhelming sadness that they thought they would be consumed by it. And I was consumed by it. IT took a long time to emerge from that fog. The fog that still envelops me from time to time.
As I sit here thinking about you I am still overwhelmingly sad. It's not the type of sadness where I can't get out of bed but more like a heavy presence that makes the world a bit less colorful. And that's exactly it. The world has become a little bit duller to me since you left it.
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Dear Andrew,
I know I don't write often but life gets in the way. I think about you all the time. There are good days and bad days. Days where I wish with every fiber of my being that you were here. Days where I sit and wonder what life would be like with two boys under two. I have a feeling it would be hectic! Then there are days where your brother requires so much attention that I don't have time to dwell on the way things could have and should have been. But I just want to write it down that I miss you and love you so much.
I know I don't write often but life gets in the way. I think about you all the time. There are good days and bad days. Days where I wish with every fiber of my being that you were here. Days where I sit and wonder what life would be like with two boys under two. I have a feeling it would be hectic! Then there are days where your brother requires so much attention that I don't have time to dwell on the way things could have and should have been. But I just want to write it down that I miss you and love you so much.
Tuesday, December 16, 2014
Dear Andrew,
It's been an emotional few weeks. Christmas wasn't celebrated last year and now with your brother this year I feel like we have to celebrate. It feels like a lot of people have expected us to move on and be happy all the time. But this isn't the case. I love your brother dearly and having him has brought so much unexpected joy into our lives but I still miss you. I still have and probably always will long for you to be here.
Your brother was 5 months on the 8th of December and you should have been 18 months on that date. It was a date that really hit home as Christmas would be so different with an 18 month old and a 5 month old. Hectic but I imagine happy as well. So in your memory we went and bought toys to donate for an 18 month old this Christmas. It was the only way I could think of honoring your memory while helping someone else. Buying those toys was difficult. I didn't know what an 18 month old would want and it hurt me that I should know. I should be well versed in what you would want for Christmas. Instead I stood in the toy store with your sleeping brother trying to figure out what to buy. In that moment life seemed wholly unfair.
Why did we have to go through losing you? It's probably a question that will always play on my mind. Along with what would life be like now with the two of you? What would your personality be like? Your little brother changes every day and looks completely different from when he was born. What would you have been like?
A part of me died when I lost you. It's a part of me that I will never get back. An innocence and joy that disappeared with those dreaded words. And I suppose Christmas magnifies your loss as it is a holiday about children and joy.
So today and every other day I think of you and miss you and day dream as to what my life would be like with both of my little men here. I love you baby boy.
It's been an emotional few weeks. Christmas wasn't celebrated last year and now with your brother this year I feel like we have to celebrate. It feels like a lot of people have expected us to move on and be happy all the time. But this isn't the case. I love your brother dearly and having him has brought so much unexpected joy into our lives but I still miss you. I still have and probably always will long for you to be here.
Your brother was 5 months on the 8th of December and you should have been 18 months on that date. It was a date that really hit home as Christmas would be so different with an 18 month old and a 5 month old. Hectic but I imagine happy as well. So in your memory we went and bought toys to donate for an 18 month old this Christmas. It was the only way I could think of honoring your memory while helping someone else. Buying those toys was difficult. I didn't know what an 18 month old would want and it hurt me that I should know. I should be well versed in what you would want for Christmas. Instead I stood in the toy store with your sleeping brother trying to figure out what to buy. In that moment life seemed wholly unfair.
Why did we have to go through losing you? It's probably a question that will always play on my mind. Along with what would life be like now with the two of you? What would your personality be like? Your little brother changes every day and looks completely different from when he was born. What would you have been like?
A part of me died when I lost you. It's a part of me that I will never get back. An innocence and joy that disappeared with those dreaded words. And I suppose Christmas magnifies your loss as it is a holiday about children and joy.
So today and every other day I think of you and miss you and day dream as to what my life would be like with both of my little men here. I love you baby boy.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)