This letter to you begins with a letter from Ethan. Last night we were sitting quietly. Ethan didn’t feel too well. In fact he projectiled all over me yesterday afternoon. For those who knew us well Jakey – they know that is something I was used to. In fact, I remember the stretch we were having a few months ago when we were having some difficulty eating (only to find out it was your CO2 level) and I was on the phone hysterical with Miss Bridget and then sat on Miss Briana’s couch crying. Anyways, when your brother puked all over me I sort of wondered if you were trying to communicate with me. But I digress – Ethan and I were sitting and he asked if he could write in his book. Miss Bridget gave me a book to write in but Ethan took it over with his writings about you. I also write some of the things him and I talk about when we talk about you. Anyways, he asked if he could write and if I would help him with some words he didn’t know how to spell. This is what he wrote:
I like my little brother. It is Jake. I wish my brother was here. I wish my Jake was here playing.
Jakey, we are all so impacted by your death. It is so hard to even say that. We are all going along, trying so hard to move forward. I am reading about Heaven, trying to understand and feel better about it all. I still am so broken-hearted over the night you died. I hate that I didn’t see it coming. I always prided myself in being your protector and somehow just didn’t see this coming. I wish I could have changed it. I am having that hardest time with some seemingly small things. I could barely take pictures yesterday because I can’t stand that there will be no more pictures of you. The ones we have are the ones we will have forever. Ethan will grow older and there will be all sorts of pictures but you will always be no older than 4 years, 7 months and 4 days. The only photos I have of you on that day are when you were dead.
On Christmas Eve, I did take some pictures though and on a few there were some weird shadows. I thought maybe it was you. I am not really sure I believe that but I would like to. There was also a weird imprint in the window – with an arm that looked exactly like yours. Was it you? I showed Daddy expecting him to tell me I was a nut but he sort of just said “Jakey”. I don’t know how to navigate through this. I am believing and having faith in things I never really thought much about or too deeply about. Now I have to.
I am so lost without you. I love you so much. Help us all press on. Much love little peanut.