I never saw your reflection in a Christmas ball, and for some reason today that made me so sad.
There have been alot of things in the past 7 years that have made me pause, close my eyes tight and wish you were here. With me. Experiencing our silly insignificant traditions and special times. Me, your brothers, your daddy.
We miss you.
I have gone months with only momentary, and pleasant, thoughts of you. But today I held Kai up to show him a pretty silver Christmas ball and he was in awe of the small, and slightly distorted, reflection that he saw there. His chubby little hand grabbed for it and his eyes were so big.
"I never got to do this with you" - it was all I could think about and it took my breath away.
Why this? {really, -a reflection in a Christmas ball?!} Why now?
- I've stopped asking those things a long time ago, because there is no "expected" and "planned" of grief.
I've learned to take it as it comes.
So I sat Mr. Kai down and I let it come. I lowered myself to the floor beside him and I cried for you. Kai crawled all over me and giggled and pulled my hair.
It seems kind of silly to me now.
I can't believe it has been 8 years. Amazing. Eight years since you were alive and kicking up a storm inside of me.
Part of me feels panicked by the way that each year has separated me further and further from you. I want to grasp at memories and slow down the clock, but I know that facing the truth is something that continually teaches me where to place my security, what really matters, and to treasure each day with your brothers.
The truth is hard for me. Because the truth is that my memories are becoming a little bit more dim.
I am getting older.
You are not here.
Some days you seem like a dream. It hurts to even type that, because you were, you are, my son. So very real. Soft, little, and so miraculous.
Yet, what I have left of you seems kind of like that distorted reflection in the Christmas ball. Faint and illusive.
My heart knows all of the wonderful facts. Like how beautiful your world is. So beyond anything my imagination could conjure up.
But today I just miss you. I really, really miss you.
-Mommy
12 comments:
Oh Wendy, this just breaks my heart for you. It is heart-wrenching and I'm sad for you. Sending you an invisible hug and praying for you.
Thank you for sharing your heart in such a raw, tender way! I passed along your blog link to a special friend who lost a baby boy just a few months ago. I pray she will be encouraged by you!
It hurts my heart for you.
He is your son...and each day that passes, is one day closer to that amazing reunion...hold on, eternity is coming.
Sometimes, it's through our breakdowns, on the living room floor, that the Holy Spirit can really minister to us...bringing the comfort only He can bring.
This breaks my heart. I cannot imagine the gaping hole in your heart. Praying that Jesus will comfort you until you see your precious boy in Heaven!
*hugs* know that God is holding you.
Awww Wendi. My heart truly aches for you. I wish I knew the right words to say... Know that I am thinking about you today, and you are in my prayers.
*Sigh*
I know Wendi. I really know.
Those balls show reflections of things that will never be. I recently saw the same reflection from a little person in my life, and knew I would never see a reflection from another little one who is just as special. <3
This Christmas as you and I "reflect" on those little ones that matter so much in OUR lives, but graced us with their brief presence, I will smile thinking that Mr.Joshua, and Miss. Savannah are sitting side by side with Jesus gazing into their own magical Christmas tree ornaments.
Sending you my love,
Cause I know what it feels like to miss them...
I posted a blog in reguards to what you said here... I mentioned you and your sweet family. If you would like me to remove it, I will gladly do so. :)
All my love and prayers...
Your post today reminded me what a precious gift life is. Praying for you today. Thanks for sharing your heart again. Your words are so encouraging and convicting. Thanks for being vulnerable.
Oh Wendi! You have such a way with words! It feels as if I am right there beside you. Sorry for your pain and loss.
I have no idea what it is like to lose a baby, but can only imagine how it must just tear at your heartstrings. I so wish I could give you a big hug right now. But since I can't, I'll pray for you.
Praying for you...
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