Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Moments like this

It's moments like this when I have to catch my breath and fight back the tears.

One for eating, three for jack-o-lanterns

One glistening orange pumpkin is missing. A moment after we bought the four pumpkins and were on our way to the van, I asked Jayze, "Should we have bought one for Alma?"

A pause. The pumpkins were already paid for and loaded in the van and Aidan needed a nap. It seemed too late to turn around and search for another pumpkin, so we drove away with just the four - one for eating and the other three meant to become jack-o-lanterns.



Yet, as we drove away, I couldn't get the thought out of my head that Alma would have loved picking out his own pumpkin. I could just see him running around, pointing this way and that, going from pumpkin to pumpkin, bending down to examine each one (or maybe even picking the first one he saw), and being so excited when we finally cut his orange treasure from its vine. My sweet two-year-old.


But he's not here, and I will always have to imagine my invisible child at the age he would be right now.

Moments like this make my heart hurt and long for what could have been. Make me long for moments like taking two boys to the store and trying to figure out where to put the groceries. Holding onto one child's hand while crossing the street and carrying the other in my arms. Saying I have two children without a second thought or having to explain that the older brother is in heaven. Staying home with two instead of one.

In these moments, I sometimes struggle with the fact that this is my story and nothing is going to change that. These are the times grief is right behind me waiting to tap in and surprise me - because these moments do...they surprise me and make me realize all over again what I'm missing out on.

Despite the pain, I'm also grateful for those moments because it keeps my little boy close. They are reminders for me that Alma is still a part of our family. He always will be. And these special, even if sometimes painful, moments just cement that fact because I can never forget him.

And because we know our family isn't complete without him, we made another trip to the pumpkin patch just for Alma and picked out his own orange beauty, which completed our family of pumpkins.


"The same feelings of loyalty, love, and family unity don’t end as our loved ones pass to the other side; instead, those feelings are intensified."