Like a Wisp of Air...

So. Lucas. I'm here now. I'm right smack dab in the middle of it. Sorry.



He was here and then ten months later, gone, like a wisp of air, just gone. I cannot even tell you, really the words will never be right, for how that has broken my heart into countless pieces. Maybe some of you have watched as little piece by little piece have been fitted back into place. Cracks all over the place and wet tear stains everywhere, my heart is filling in again.

I see so many others struggle in this life and some I have gotten to watch some slowly come to a better place and it's been cool to see. For me, I see my healing not continual when it's happening, but always later, only able to look backwards. I cry a lot alone still. Some things just bring the tears instantly and I have grown to hate my hot tears spilling down my face. I have also come to realize that I can't stop them. They are there, directly tied to my cracked but filling in heart and when my heart winces or shrinks back in fear because of a memory, they come tumbling out. Sometimes I have warning with my tightening throat and sometimes there is no warning at all. My memories of Lucas are insanely random. Something might spark a memory of me sitting by his bedside trying to get him to take his pacy as a sign of wanting to wake back up again and that memory is so painful. I hinged so much on trying to get him to do a simple thing like show me a sign of wanting life again, awake, alert life. The smallest movement in his mouth was astronomically huge to me. Looking back, it probably meant nothing. At the time it meant everything. The doctors could be cruel. Back then, I thought they were so cruel. Looking back, they were trying to prepare us for the reality that was to come. Our ten month old son was dying. Yes, all that brings tears. Will that ever stop? Not sure. But like a wisp of air he was here and gone and now his memory remains. The pictures on the walls are still here, fewer in number but still here. And now I look at them with vague recollection and at the same time intense, hard driven emotions about how everything happened. Get over it? Yes and no. There are still lots of strings to be tied up and straightened out....and I think the cracks in my heart will be there always but maybe they'll get smaller and smaller. I don't kid myself in thinking there won't be a hole left at the end of it all. There will. But at the end of it all, when that hole is still glaring me in the face, he'll be that much closer to me.

The air we breathe is the air we need. So even in a figurative way he was the air I needed. My life has become all wrapped up in living it differently; I have changed quite a bit and you know what? That is ok. It just is.

Jenn