I am both sad and frustrated that I haven’t written to you in ten days. I know you understand since I have been writing so many letters over and over in my head and I know you hear them. But it seems like I can’t stop repeating them in my head until I get them down. And this has been especially difficult because I find myself mostly frustrated at myself. I was foolish enough to think that post-Mother’s Day life would improve. And I was so comfortable in thinking that we (I) were having such a tough time of it because of all the deliveries, the event, your birthday, Mother’s Day and all the other stuff. But what sucks is that there is always something that is hard. I wanted so much to believe that things would be better starting on May 14th. And while I can’t complain about much, I can complain about the incredible void that has been left by you leaving. And I can complain about how much harder it is on a daily basis than it used to be. And I know people don’t really want to hear about it anymore but the fact of that matter is that life is harder than it was a year ago. It is sadder and it is harder and while the edges aren’t as sharp – the dull, constant pain is almost worse. And what is definitely worse is that alien feeling that I have written to you about before. I can’t help but feel different, even from my dearest friends. I can’t help but feel the strangest combination of anger and jealousy and the belief that ignorance is bliss. Anger for their complaints, jealousy over having nothing else to complain about and then just knowing that it is me, not anyone else, that is off in all this. You can’t be angry and jealous because people’s lives are following different paths. Yet I would never want to be on anyone else’s path – I love the path I was and am on because it gave me you. And I know how much better you made us all. And I know I feel things so much more than I ever did. And I wouldn’t want to change that. Ever.
I wanted to write you a letter the day after Mother’s Day. There was a moment that morning of the 14th when I was so grateful for you and the gifts you gave me. I watch your brother and enjoy our mornings and afternoons together so much and I know so many of our routines started out of our life with you. And for the most part we have held them sacred. I love them and I love that they stemmed out of me balancing crazy morning with two very different yet equally special boys. And I love that even though you aren’t physically here with us each morning, we follow mostly the same patterns. But I missed the window to write you that letter and I let life get away from me. And I hate it when that happens. And I wanted to avoid writing another sad letter to you but sometimes it seems that is unavoidable. I try to remember back to before life seemed so intense and it is hard for me to remember. I think of Andrew Ragan who neither you nor I never met here on Earth but I assume you know now. Or at least I hope you know him now. From everything I have read and heard he was (is) pretty amazing and I like the idea of you being surrounded by good people. And then I think of sweet Tessa who I visited in the hospital today. She reminded me of you so much. Resting and fighting. And fighting so much harder than anyone should have to but doing it the very best she can. And I saw her move and raise her arms and shift her legs and I just knew what that took out of her to do that. And I was so very proud of her for doing it. And I missed you so very much but I trust that you are seeing her through and helping her if she is scared. I miss you so very much my brave boy.
Ethan, once again, sums it up best. Last night he said to me in between tears, “why can’t he just come down?” And I had no answer because I would give absolutely anything to have you “come down”