Your Garden

Hey Bud, Your garden looks so lovely. The miniature daffodils we planted in the fall are beginning to bloom. The baby hostas are beginning to poke through the soil. The baby's breath is green in anticipation. Ironic, isn't it? Such precious new life emerging while yours will forever stand still. It's still so hard to accept that concept.... Missing and loving you always, Nicholas. PS. Thank you for helping your daddy and brothers put the dock in the lake over the weekend.... (tiny, red, ladybug nestled in the crack of the dock)

The Funeral Home

The tears don't come quite as freely anymore. That is not to say that I don't miss our son deeply and think of him every single day. It just means that the pain has softened. The edges of grief that used to rip through my soul have become dull and I believe that I now feel hope in my days, more than desperation and anxiety. Having said that, this weekend presented itself to be unbearably tough once again. Another step in this horrendous journey of grieving our son. A very close friend and neighbour of our family passed away. The funeral was held at the same funeral home where we last saw and held Nicholas. How was I going to walk into that building? How was I going to walk that same path... the path I walked just 3 short years ago leading me to my dead son? The days leading to the funeral were laden with anxiety, nightmares, fear and a fresh feeling of gut wrenching grief. The day itself brought tears and sobs and many, many memories. I imagined my perfect baby boy laying silently in the tiny white box. I remembered literally collapsing at his side and screaming in desperation. I remembered his perfect, little face... so quiet... so still. I remembered his Papa meeting and holding his grandson for the first and last time and the conflict of pride and anguish he showed in his eyes. I remembered having to chose a container for his remains and how incredibly unfair it was to ask a parent to imagine their child being turned into ashes.... I remembered not wanting to see Nicholas again and I remembered the instinctual pull I felt when I knew he was near. I remembered the doors opening and walking into that large room and I remembered seeing my son at the alter. I remembered the agony of hoping beyond hope that things were different. I remembered leaving the funeral home in the arms of my husband and father and not knowing how to breathe again. I am glad that I went. I am thankful for the opportunity to remember and honour a dear friend and amazing man. I am grateful for getting through it, somewhat gracefully. And I am thankful that Nicholas was extra close that day... he always seems to give me the strength to fight through those seemingly impossible situations.

Easter 2012

Happy Easter!

Hey Buddy....


Just a note to say you are missed... you are loved... you are honoured... and you are remembered always.

Holidays and special occasions, especially those ones geared towards the children, always stand out as the tougher moments in this grief journey. I can only imagine you bounding around searching for Easter Eggs... covering your perfect little face in chocolate. Oh... the what if's are a nightmare.

Love you so much,
Mommy