I play the day over in my mind, looking for where it all went wrong. In my version, instead of sending him to Rochester, I yell "STOP! Don't take him! Bring him to me and go away!" Then I hold him and kiss him and snuggle him for days.
Where was I that day? Why couldn't I think clearly enough to ask/speak/tell someone something. Why did they take him away from me?
Yesterday was the day last year that I finally got to hold him. The day I said goodbye.
|my favorite <3 <3|
|tiny, perfect little piggies <3|
|I sure so love this little guy <3|
|Holding him for the first time|
|My beautiful boy, laying on the ugly leaf blanket at the funeral home.|
I see his beautiful little face; I remember his soft skin and hair, his tiny button nose and little curled ears.
I miss him. That's all there is to it. I wish I could pick him up and run away and tell the whole world to just leave me alone. To hide where no one can find us.
It's far too late for that.
I'm just not okay with any of this.
I miss my baby.
Year two so far: just as ugly and empty and broken as the first.