Dear Jakey,
Today is All Soul’s day but I guess you probably know that already. It is a day that those of us still down here think about all of you up there. We went to St. Clement’s tonight and got your cross back. Ethan and I talked about where it should go. Without me even saying anything to him about it, he told me that he wasn’t sure how he felt about bringing the cross home. First he said he wished we should have one for every room. And then when I thought that we should hang it in the kitchen, he said no, the TV room because that is where you spend the most time. It’s true. We spend a lot of time on this couch. Tons and tons of time. And I miss all of it. So I think we will hang it here. It may turn out to be pretty nice to have it.
When we were leaving Father Paul came up to us and gave us hugs. He quickly reminded me why I wanted him to speak at your service. The first thing he said to me is “it just sucks” and I said “it sucks a lot”. Even Father Paul, who believes so strongly that you are in Heaven and that God is good, acknowledges just how awful your death is. And I appreciate that.
It is amazing how similar I have been feeling lately as to the beginning. I have been in a fog and just sort of feeling like I don’t belong. For a while I was pretty good and having normal moments or passages of time but I am almost entirely consumed lately by thoughts of a year ago. We are in the last month that I will be able to remember a year ago with you – and I can remember a year ago so vividly. A year ago tomorrow, we were at CHB with Dr. Fulton. I remember what an exciting visit it was for us. Exciting because the tests showed that you could see. And that you had potential to see. And it was so validating because I always thought you could see and I remember you looking in my eyes and being so connected. And all those good things were a year ago because today you are dead and have been for almost 11 months. And every day there are more things I think about, things that when they were happening I didn’t realize would be the last time. And sometimes I wish I knew what would happen so that I would have hung on to everything even more. But I mostly am glad I didn’t know because that life was easier, better. A mom whose kid hasn’t died is pretty easy. And I miss just being able to be your mom. And I miss the way I felt when I was just another mom. Even when being your mom made me a little different, I could still just relate to other moms. Now I feel like an alien.
I love you and think of you every minute of the day.
Love,
Mommy