I remember the last minute I held you so vividly- 6 years later. So much of that day is gone from my soul- restricted. I believe that allows me to go on living bc the pain of remembering every minute might take me. You felt heavy covered in wires and swollen from hours of trying to save you- I can still feel you. Your sweet belly was cut open to relieve the pressure on your kidneys from all the swelling that happened when the machines made your heart beat again. I cradled your hand and your foot and felt ultimate despair and desperation- this can't be happening. I remember not being able to see through the tears as your blonde hair almost looked like a cloud around your head. How much I loved your hair—it seemed to gleam against your blue eyes and that day was no different. I couldn’t see your eyes in those last moments even though I kept opening your eyes to see my babies soul one more time- and I kept thinking this could not be real- you would sit up any minute and tell me you were “ok” like you always did. For you just did just the day before when you fell in the grass running through the yard giggling that pure joy laugh you had. You would get up and walk again and use those sweet, chubby feet I cradled in my hands. I longed for God to please take me instead. I couldn’t go on without you. I couldn’t hand you over and watch you die. I couldn’t ride that elevator down to the parking lot next to my husband who for the first time could not comfort me in despair himself-- and walk out holding just Colin. My arms were made for both of you and I couldn’t do it.
I sit here just days away from six years later many days still in total pain. These last few weeks leading up to another anniversary of your death are no easier than the those leading up to the first year. And for some reason this one feels even worse- I am mad about that. Maybe because the memory of you has faded in people around me, maybe just because life has been just a little more stressful lately, a little more lonely and sad maybe— maybe there is no reason at all and there doesn’t have to be. I put on my happy as much as I can and I try to be a good mom, wife and friend but sometimes I just want to be with you. I take comfort in the fact that I am one day closer to holding you again- every.single.day. Some days are easier than others and I feel real joy- the kind of joy I thought would never be possible- how could it be- this day, this baby, this unreality of losing my healthy two year old- it would never get better like every other sad or bad in our life would. Not this time. I am so grateful for our family and honestly I would not make it through without my true good friends— even though I have a very small circle—who love me in the good days and bad and who have given so much love and support. The ones who are just good friends to me and to Russ all the time. Those who remember you..even some who have never met you..they are most important to me. I know the day - March 25, 2019 will come and go and Russ and I will still be standing on the other side. A living reminder to appreciate every day and love your family and friends hard- because life can be inexplicably short.
#JacobsJoy
Sent from my iPhone
Love you
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