I sat down to write to you a bunch of times today but could never get anything out. It was strange. I usually have the opposite problem – a lot to tell you but no time to do it. Today, I had a lot of time since I was pretty much home all day. Ethan had a snow day and we only left to go to the eye doctor first thing this morning. And to see you – only twice today though which makes me a little unhappy. Anyways, your brother was great today – playing with his beyblades all day while I worked on stuff for you. I am feeling good about where we are with the foundation. Daddy has helped me get a focus and I think we have a decent mission statement now. I emailed Mike Fitzgerald with IRS/tax questions and we have a solid plan to try to have an event that will coincide with your 5th birthday. Hopefully we can make it happen. But every time I took a break to write to you about it, I froze and had nothing to say. That’s not like me at all. You know that. I usually have plenty to say.
Anyways, we came back from our evening visit with you. It was so icy and miserable out. It freaks me out to think of your body under this super cold ground. I know you aren’t there and that your soul is warm and happy but it still freaks me out. But I came back and started cooking dinner. And then I realized it was the first time I cooked dinner since you died. Uncle Steve and I cooked on New Year’s Eve but that was different. I’ve heated up meals and put together hodge podge leftover meals from others but I haven’t cooked since December 8th – the day you died. It was strange and good all at the same time. Strange because it was another new thing to get used to – getting used to cooking and not worrying about whether it is time to feed you or whether you woke up, or whether I would have to feed you at the same time as I was feeding myself. Strange because you weren’t in your chair hanging out with me while I cooked. The thing is though, it was time for me to do it – as much as I have appreciated all the meals people have made us and as much as they helped sustain us – it is time for me to be back in the kitchen. I just need to figure out how to do it without you here. And I am not sure that will ever happen but part of me is happy to have another moment that was just ours – whether it was in my head worrying about you or talking to you while I cooked – that time of day entirely revolved around you. And it still does. As sad as it makes me, it also reminds me of good times – of our family being a happy, normal-to-us, family of four. And I loved it. Even when I bitched about having to feed you and complained about how I always screwed up the timing at the end of the day – it was our life and I loved it. And I am so blessed to have had you in my life and I am so proud to be your mommy.
With so much love,