I will never forget you. In all my days, in all my moments, you continue to be the reason I go on. Some might have fallen. Some might have caved. And maybe I did for a long time. Maybe I am still trying to get up from the fall. I am at least up on my heels balancing myself with one hand on the ground behind me.
Why you were born to us only to die ten months later I won't know until I'm standing in front of God. I do know that your presence here for that short time changed so much. It made me resolve to pull your Daddy closer to me no matter how mad he made me. It made me love your big brother with an even fiercer emotion than before. And it allowed us to give in to the feeling of wanting you back so badly but knowing we could not have you to make way for the Littlest, your little brother. Do you know he stands in front of the wall of pictures and says your name as if he's known you his whole two years of life? I just smile.
On this day four years ago, you left this Earth. I watched the life slowly leave your body day after day and finally when we knew it was time; it was time. To know the pain of a parent who has watched their own child die is unlike anything else. I'm starting though to prefer to think of it as a transition. To what, we're still figuring out. Thank you Lucas for being so strong. So brave to fight like you did. To tell those doctors they were wrong and thank you for leaving on your own terms and letting us mull it over for a minute. I know with my whole heart if you had just died right after that operation I would not be on my heels or anything else. I would be somewhere else. The depths.
Today has been quiet and somber and I have been tired. I have laid and I have wept quietly. It's hard you know? To balance the good in life and try to forget the pain even though it weilds through your body on a daily basis?
Happy you are. Peaceful and well. I know this. I believe and depend on it. I miss you always and I'll see you soon. In Heaven, I believe this to be moments. Here on Earth it's years. I will hold you again, and I'll never let you go.
Love Mamma.
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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