I am going through the house, updating pictures. Some of the pictures are so old and we have all changed in so many ways. The ones of Lucas, I look at a lot and I still cannot bear to take them down. I don't know if I ever will. The boys will grow up and I will change their pictures and Lucas' will just stay the same; as he was when he died. Hate that. Sometimes I just hate it.
I had a memory today that really hit me hard. It was me, sitting on our old couch in the old sun room, with my mom and sister there with me as I held Lucas who was very very little, maybe a week old. I remember holding him and just looking at them, asking, "why is this happening?" and crying. I think they both maybe cried too but tried to comfort me. How little I knew then. How selfish I was being. It wasn't "happening" to ME. It was happening to him, and to our whole family, my husband and oldest son; all of us. Not going to rehash it all again..
Time to change pictures, make them new again, use the same frames but give them new life. It almost feels like redecorating. Redecorating the house and redecorating the soul. Could use a little of both around here.
--J
You cook, you clean, you go to work, you nourish, you love, you scold, you are professional and yet you hang your hat on every dust particle in your home. You are a woman. Some women are Moms and some are not. You are still a woman. We are all made similarly. We are strong.
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