I had what I thought to be a decent day. We kept busy. We saw you. And I talked to you a lot. I really thought I was coming to terms with things. I felt good and strong. I felt good about the way I was trying to make sense of things. We are going to take Ethan to the North Pole on Saturday morning. Get up early, visit you and then get on the road. Spend the day, come back, visit you and come home. I thought about it and thought about it and sort of thought it was almost like a gift you were giving the family. It sounds weird I bet but it made me feel good. We could never have done a day trip before and I know you would have wanted to but your body as it was wouldn’t let it happen. Between meds, meals and just the physical aspects of a day trip we never could have done it. But today I convinced myself that your spirit would be with us Saturday and in a way you would experience what you never could have here on Earth. I felt good about it.
And then just a little while ago, I felt like I got punched. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t catch my breath. I still can’t. You are gone. I miss you. I want you back. I can’t bear it. I told Daddy I didn’t think I could do it anymore. I am scared I can’t. Why did you have to die? I feel hollowed out. Like my whole heart is ripped out. I need you back buddy.
And I sit here now trying to think about the good things. At the cemetery today, Ethan cleaned and cleaned a headstone near you. He wouldn’t listen that it wasn’t yours but said that he wanted it to be cleaned off for you. He looked up and asked about a bright star. He thought it was the entrance to Heaven. As we left the cemetery he asked me why I cried when you died because he thought I should be happy since your body wasn’t having any more seizures. He has a valid point but I explained to him that even though I felt good that you weren’t suffering and that you were with God I still missed you so so much. He told me he missed you more. Always the case.