Dear Jakey,

Today is another day that I need to get used to a life without you. It seems so weird to me. I woke up at 2:30 again and felt less sure that you were there than the other night. It may have been you because I did manage to get some more sleep. But then the alarm went off at 5:30 – because on Wednesday mornings I like to take Aurora’s spin class at 6:00. Not today. But it started the day with what I was afraid today would bring – so much thought to last Wednesday. Last Wednesday I got up and went to spin. I saw a mom from Lake Ave. I think her name is Kathleen. We chit-chatted. And then I saw Connor and Calvin’s dad. Just another normal day. Only it wasn’t. It ended up being the day you died.

I read a book a few years back, shortly after you got sick by Joan Didion. She wrote about stuff in her life – and talked about the moment. The moment in your life where everything changes – nothing about you or your life is the same and you always know the exact moment in time things changed. I was pretty sure our moment was when you had your first seizure on January 21, 2007. I know everything about that moment. I can picture it like it was yesterday. But now there is a new moment. An even worse moment. A moment which started with a text to your Daddy at 6:52 and ended with a time of death of 8:16. I am not sure how to make sense of that.

Yesterday I told you about the different yo-yoing of feelings that I have been having. And while all I told you is true, I have decided that under your watch, I will try to be a kinder person. It is sort of impossible not to be – I want to make you proud. And today, Daddy and I continue to be overwhelmed with the support we are lucky enough to have. In just the last few hours, we have had so much love sent our way. We came home just now to Bettie’s cupcakes on the porch from Bridget. We opened the door this morning to dinner from Eliza’s mom – and from the coordination of Briana will have meals well into the New Year. We have had texts from friends just checking in – from Kelly arranging for a way for me to ease back into hot yoga and to ski with her on Wednesdays. From letters in the mail from both old and new friends with words of support, love and encouragement. Texts, comments and messages from those who understand my anger and know to not take it personally. A message from Erin to let me know Ethan looked great at lunch. Rob’s profile picture being the flower he got Monday. It just goes on and on , Jakey. The love that people had for you. And I need to hang on to that.

Daddy and I started our day early today. It is hard to know what to do but we got ourselves up and out. We took Ethan to school, went to St. Clement’s to say some prayers and light some candles for you. We went to hang out with you. We ordered a locket for Daddy to match what Briana and Kelly got for me. We got a locket for Ethan too. We made our first real entrance to the world which was more successful for Daddy than me. I cried through the aisles of Loew’s and Wal-mart. And I wandered without focus. The world overwhelms me now. I need you in your red stroller to help me navigate. Thank God for Daddy – whose pain matches mine yet is able to hold me up. He kept finding me and bringing me back.

And now we are home. And I need to prepare for Ethan’s return from school –  His sadness is growing. He wants his middle name to be Alexander. He wants to take a picture of you from Monday to school. He wants his brother back. We all do. I am starting to do some laundry. But I mostly need to sit. Missing you is taking everything I have. My stomach hurts. My heart aches. I am lost without you. I want to erase the moment. And I want you back. Your body back  here with me.

Love,

Mommy