Happy Father's Day, Daddy

Happy Father's Day to the strongest, most loving daddy around....

Daddy's Love

Your daddy loves you oh so much
I see it in his eyes.
Every time we speak of you,
He looks up to the sky.

We talk about you often
And wonder what you’d be
If you were down here with us,
With your family.

Daddy is so strong,
His strength surrounds us all.
We lean on him for comfort,
He doesn’t let us fall.

But daddy hurts so deeply,
He misses you so much.
He feels blessed to have known you
And to have felt your touch.

He’s proud to be your daddy
And to have held your hand in his.
He kissed and held you close that day
Forever you’ll be missed.

We love you buddy… xo xo
Mommy (Leanna) – March 2009

Your new garden

We moved your garden yesterday.

I'm sure you already know.

What a potent mix of emotions.  I didn't expect it to be as difficult as it was for your daddy and I. 

Moving your rocks was like holding a piece of you again, bringing us back to the day when we so gently laid them down on a neatly raked space of soil.  One of the big steps on this life long journey.  Your space.  Our memorial to a perfect little baby boy.  So much love, so much respect.  Makes me sad that not everyone has the sensitivity.... or the respect that you deserve.

Your new spot is another perfect one.  A beautiful view of the lake.  With your family.  The one's who love you.  The one's who remember you with gratitude and a deep understanding of what you mean to all of us.

I am comforted by the fact that you will be watching over your brothers and sisters as they splash and play in the water....  keep them safe, baby.

I hope that you are at peace with your new garden.  No matter where it is, it will always be that tangible place where we can nurture and grow and hope.

Lots of love,
Mommy

Memorial

For those of you visiting after attending the Memorial at Southlake last evening, I welcome you to this place of comfort and healing.  I also commend your strength and courage to walk through those doors.  It is an extremely difficult thing to do.  I only hope that you found some peace and warmth while being surrounded with other parents grieving their precious babies.

Please, have a look through The Angel Wings Memorial Boutique, visit Nicholas' Touch and try to find a connection, some solace in the words written.  My posts are often raw, direct and vivid in description.  Nicholas' Touch is a space where I can share my inner most anxieties about grieving the loss of our 3rd son.  It is a space where my heart is exposed and my grief is very real.  It is my hope that parents experiencing the loss of a child, at any stage in their grief journey, can find some hope in our experience.

I remember, early on, how often I would search out parents who were just a little further ahead in their journey.  How desperate I was to hear their stories and relate.  My heart ached for some proof that the anguish would somehow soften.  That my broken soul could be wrapped in some peace somewhere down the road.

I hope that Nicholas' legacy and our voyage down this often tumultuous path can offer some hope and comfort in knowing that what you are feeling is okay.  That you are not alone.  This community can be one of the most compassionate, generous, and loving communities.  We are here to help, to listen, to cry, to laugh...  We are here to understand and we are here to support.

Much love to you and your babes,
Leanna

Soft Spring

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.

Spring.

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.

Sigh......

Happy Spring, sweet Nicholas.

Mama loves you.

Wishing

I love staring at your beautiful and perfect little face, buddy.  Nothing in particular today.  Just missing you.  Just remembering.  Just dreaming.  We love you so much.  Wish it wasn't this way.  Wish we didn't have to do all of that from afar.

Mommy  xx

Breathless

It's been a while since I've had the feeling.  The feeling of pure grief.  The power of grief.  The hold it can take on my heart.  I've been breathless.... like no breath is deep enough... like no breath can repair the sadness.  Like no breath can cleanse my soul.  It's real, I know.  And it's always there... like a shadow I can't get rid of.  Like a demon stuck on the sidelines.  Grief resides in my heart.... all nestled up tight and silent until I least expect it.  And then it can be so fierce that the rage is undeniable and I must succumb to it's force.

Maybe it's the crumby days of winter... cold, wet, sloppy and dark.  For sure it's the passing of my grandpa and the void that is now felt throughout our family.  Maybe it's the fact that another family close to our heart is experiencing the unimaginable as we speak.  Maybe it's just that our son died... and it sucks.... and I miss his kicks... and I miss his smell... and I miss the little boy that should have been.  Maybe it's because it's not natural and it's not fair... our kids do not die before us.  Maybe it's simply that I am not in a good place right now.  Maybe it's  the insurmountable  amount of guilt that has infected my being.... like the grief.... guilt has become a mainstay in my heart.  Maybe it's because my heart hurts and I can't seem to calm it....

Maybe

Maybe

Maybe

Sigh....

Nicholas.... we have come so far.  We have done so much good.  We have offered so much comfort to other families who so desperately need it after their children pass away.  But, some days the good just isn't much of a comfort to me.  I'd much rather I didn't have to collapse at your coffin 4 years ago.  I'd much rather that we didn't have to carry your ashes home.  I'd much rather have a billion more kisses....

I'd much rather love you beside me cuz this loving from afar stuff is really hard....

I'd much rather be able to take a good, deep and cleansing breath and feel renewed and fully joyful.... but right now, I can't.... and that's okay.  It's in these moments and times of pure grief that I am truly reminded of your gift. 

My heart is bigger because of you....

United

In the early morning of January 6, 2013 our family lost a very special man.  The matriarch of our family.  The strength.  The integrity.  The legend.  A few days ago my amazingly tenacious, outrageously strong and infinitely kind grandfather passed on to the next world.

Grandpa or "New Papa" as our kids call him was battling with a fearless foe the last several months.  Alzheimer's had gripped his soul tightly and he was kept prisoner in his very own body.  Once so sharp.  Once so incredibly wise and wistful.... our precious New Papa didn't have a chance against such a mighty disease.

I saw him on New Years Day.  He was weak.  He was gaunt.  He continued to refuse to eat or take his medication.  I promised him that the ice cream I wanted to feed him was his very favourite (Kawartha Dairy) and that I brought it especially for him.  He nearly ate the entire bowl and seemed to savour each mouthful.  Mom and I bargained with him to take his pills... the pills that would keep his mind at ease and calm the paranoia.  He took them and we both sat and rubbed cream into his feet and his legs.  He relished every minute.... groaning and smiling in great comfort.  I kissed him as we left.  Told him I loved him and squeezed a little tighter.  I had a feeling that may the last time....

As mixed up as his mind was... as different as he was... I truly feel like deep down he had the sense to know what was happening to him.  What should not have been happening to him.  For most of his life he was the man in control.  He called the shots and he knew how to manage every situation.... imagine how extremely terrifying to realize that you had no control over your own mind or body anymore.  To imagine yourself as a burden and struggle with the fact there was no getting better.  Grampa took control of the situation he was forced to face the only way he knew how... the only way he mindfully and physically could.  He allowed his body to comfortably decline.  He was valiant in this.  The only thing left to control.  The only way to relieve his family.  The only way to relieve himself without the suffering....

I am comforted by the fact that he is now united with our sweet Nicholas.  Grampa was so heartbroken when Nicholas died.  Again, loss of control.  Watching his only granddaughter suffer the insurmountable.  I am so happy that they are now in each others arms.  

Grampa ~ we all have so many amazing memories with you.  It is these memories that will allow us to reflect and smile.  You have had such an impact on so many lives.  You have left a legacy which will always supercede death.  Rest well... I love you, Nan