It has been a while since I wrote again. And it is my own fault. My last letter to you was about things that haven’t changed since you left us. And of course, as soon as I finished writing it all I could think about are all the very many ways things HAVE changed. There are too many to mention and honestly, every thing that is different I have a hard time finding to be a positive because it all came at such a cost.
While not really a big deal, but different nonetheless, your mother stays up late now (sometimes). In the last year of your life I really wasn’t very good about sharing you at bedtime. Not really even sure what made that change but at some point I just didn’t share as much. I did your meds and put you to bed while Daddy put Ethan to bed. And more often than I ended up giving you meds in our bed and snuggling with you until we were both asleep. And I think that is still the hardest part for me. Even last night, I was laying in bed unable to sleep because I just kept thinking about how you used to be there next to me. And even though I would sometimes complain, there was nothing about it that I really wanted to change. Anyways, I started staying up late, often watching Criminal Minds with Daddy. I think he likes the change (obviously not the reason) because we get to watch these shows together now. And for a while, not as much now but still a little, I was obsessed with Criminal Minds – sometimes watching 4 or 5 episodes in a row. Last week there was an episode with a dying boy. The dad lost it and began killing people. And while that was so totally extreme and what he was doing was awful, there was part of me that understood. When you lose a kid, you lose everything that is right in the world. And as much as you don’t want it to take over, you can’t help sometimes wanting to take it out on others. Anyways, I am always trying to make sense of what happened and while I am not sure it ever will, I grasp on to anything that might help. The father was sitting with his son as he died and right before he died he said this to him: “Some of us think holding on makes you strong; sometimes it is letting go.” And I think that applies to you too.
Missing you even more than usual,