Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Spring..... again

Funny... as I look back at the posts at Nicholas' Touch around this time of year it is always the same... the arrival of Spring... a new season to rejuvenate life and refresh the soul.

I awoke this morning from a horrifying 'flashback' type of dream.  They are terrifying and merciless ... when they happen they rock my world as I am transported back to the day my baby boy was ripped from my body.... to the day when I so desperately wanted to hear him cry, wimper, anything...

He didn't... he never will... and I know that.  The mind is an intricate piece of machinery, however, and it can rip you apart when you least expect it... play games with your already fragile heart and cause the raw, in the moment pain to come roaring back...

I accept it.  The pain.  The longing.  The guilt.  The love.

Below is what I wrote just last year.... March 22/2013


It comes every year.  I should be used to it by now.  I should be prepared for the shock.  I should be able to stare it in the eyes and steady myself.  I should be able to keep my composure.

But every year it comes... and every year the grief of carrying Nicholas in my heart explodes into a nasty mess.  A heated pool of anguish over the loss of my third son.


It gets me every time.

I stare out the window and witness the tulips slowly rising... the abundance of Robins with full bellies waiting to lay their eggs.  I admire how the grass magically turns from dry, brown, dead.... to lush, green and inviting.  I pop open the windows in our home to release the staleness of winter and allow the cool spring breeze to revitalize the air.  The sun shines and I can feel the warmth as it tries to soothe my soul.

The new life.  The freshness of the air.  The vitality of the buds on the verge of blooming..... it's all so bittersweet.

I love Spring, but it's all such a heavy reminder.

Such life and growth..... but he's dead.

As I read my own words they sound so harsh.  Probably because no one should have to write those words.  No one should have to endure the death of their own child.  So, the words may be harsh, but they are my reality.  My world.

As the fragrance in the air subtly changes from winter cold to spring fresh.... I miss him.

That's what our Nicholas smelled like.  Fresh, soft, spring air.  A pure and gentle cocktail of beautiful baby.


Happy Spring, sweet Nicholas.