Dear Jakey,

I wonder how many times I will look for you on the couch, expecting to see you propped up in your corner with pillows because of the spica? Or even forget about the spica and expect to see you in your chair or asleep on the couch? During dinner tonight I caught myself mid-startle. I was about to say who’s got Jake? And then I remembered. In the shower, I caught myself trying to go fast because you might need me. I am just not even sure who I am without you to take care of. I know you changed me. You made me stronger, smarter, more understanding and compassionate. You made me who I am and now without you it is scary. My role as your mom defined everything about me. And in a way it scares me. I need to keep you alive somehow and promise to figure out a way. Whether it is donations or a foundation or research, we will find a way to make sure that your story continues. I will continue your story but need you to give me strength. I have fought the fight with you for so long and I am not ready to give it up.

But first, you need to help me Jake. I hang on to two things lately. First, the priest you gave you your last rites. He said that you were no longer here as we stood over you moments after it was over. He told us it was us who would be suffering but that you were already with God in Heaven with no more suffering. I love that. I belive that. I have to. And then I hang on to something Father Paul said on Monday.  He talked about how he didn’t believe God did this.  He said that God wouldn’t want a child to die. And I believe that. God isn’t mean. But I think he had it a little mixed up. God wouldn’t have you suffer anymore. I mean really, the broken femur had to be the last straw. How much pain can you take? God wouldn’t, couldn’t keep letting your body break down. If God is in fact kind and generous there is no way that could continue. Yet, I wish he did. Because although we would have so many more hurdles to climb, you would still be here. And while I know you were unhappy those last few days, maybe even in pain, I know that you loved it here with us. I know you love us. And boy do we love you. And part of me hopes that I keep looking for you, even though each time it breaks my heart all over again. I just don’t want it to be real.

Love,

Mommy