6 Years

I’ve been trying to be honest with myself about the feelings that I have, identify them and feel them instead of pushing them way down (which I prefer and I’m really good at it).

Today is six years since the day that I laid eyes on Heath for the first time.

Today, I am angry. I go between the different stages of grief every day and today is no different. If anything, it’s magnified on these milestone days. I’m angry that he’s not here, learning to ride a bike, exploring the world, seeing things that the rest of us take for granted. He doesn’t see the sun rise or the ocean crashing on the shore. He isn’t here to terrorize his brother and sister — “I’m not touching you” and all that. I’m angry that he isn’t sharing this world with us.

I’m angry that this is still our reality, that it hasn’t changed. That I’m still angry and hurt and sad. I’m realizing (apparently very slowly) that isn’t going to change. I’m always going to miss him, miss him growing up, miss who he would have been, miss all the milestones and adventures and funny sayings that he was sure to say, if Jimmy, Noah and Avery are any indication.

Mourning your baby isn’t just the initial loss of a child, it’s the loss of a future that we had planned for him and for our family. A future that was never to be. I still look at Noah and Avery and wonder what characteristics he would have had. Would he have been another blond, blue-eyed baby? Would he have had their same kind-hearted spirit and quick wit?

I guess I’ll never know.

Happy Birthday my beautiful boy.