For some reason lately I've had trouble going to visit your grave. I want to go but something holds me back. I don't know if I suddenly feel as if you aren't there or the fact that you are always with me so what is the point of visiting one spot. I don't know why suddenly I feel dread going to visit your final resting place. I love where you are. I love all the toys and boxes and the fact that you are with other babies. When we went to visit your plot before you were buried we instantly knew it was where we would want you. It's colorful and so childlike while still maintaining a feeling of mourning. But I also have this feeling of horror every time I see your name on the headstone. It somehow makes it so real. It makes it more real than the fact we have your nursery still set up, pictures of you around our house, and stretch marks on my belly all proving that you were here. That you lived even if it was only for 41 weeks and a day. The headstone is a reminder that you aren't with us and we only got to spend a short time with you.
I see other parents up near your plot. Older parents who are probably grandparents at this point and it makes me so sad to think that fifty years from now you will still be gone and your father and I will be going to visit you. We will never be done with this grief until we meet again. And something about this feeling scares me. I always was able to get through hard times thinking that this hardship has to end at some point. But it won't end. We will forever remember you and what happened to you. We will forever hold you in our hearts until we meet again.
I hoe you love the box we made you. Your father built it and I painted it. I am forever adding little toys to it even though your father thinks I'm crazy for buying you little things every time I'm out. I always think of you....
No comments:
Post a Comment