One thousand ninety five days

Dear Jack,

You’re three today. Now how can that possibly be?  That would mean that every single moment that I remember clear as day, like it happened yesterday was in fact three years-one thousand ninety five days-behind us; the only moments that Daddy and I had with you were three years ago.  And yet, here we are.

This year went by in somewhat of a blur.  It all happened so quickly, between Jack’s Herd and a new baby, there was so much growth and change that it has been hard to keep my balance.  I hope you are proud of all of the families that have been helping in your name.  We are trying to help you leave your legacy in this world, bud.  

Your baby brother coming to us has been pretty amazing.  You picked a good one for us, Jack! He’s such a good baby-so mellow, happy, and he sleeps too.  About a month after he got here your sister told us she wanted to take Carter to your spot so he could meet you.  She wanted to be the one to hold him and I bet you heard her proudly tell you, “This is our new baby, Jackie.  You’re a big brother now.”  If you did, you may have heard my heart break a little too. You see, having this baby here with us is healing in so many ways but it is often heart wrenching too.  Looking at him sometimes I am overcome by what we really lost when we lost you; every one of the little moments that I share with your brother highlights what we didn’t get to have with you.  All of these memories that we are building with Carter, while they are so incredible and bring me so much peace and happiness, I feel so cheated out of those with you-all of my memories of you are from one day-a few short hours that are clouded by such sadness. 

When I woke up today it felt almost hard to move.  Instantly everything from three years ago came flooding to the forefront of my mind. I wanted to stay in bed so badly but there was a baby to be fed and a little girl that had to be put on the bus.  

Daddy and I took the day off from work like we have these last few years.  We went to breakfast and a movie again, so I guess it’s becoming a tradition for us.  In between though we went to visit you.  Though the sun was shining bright and the sky was completely clear, I felt rushed by the freezing cold of January.  We sat in the car for a while; I’m sorry I was so sad.  This year just feels so much harder.  It’s so much more complicated.  

We went to the movie and, for a while, everything faded away and it was just me and Daddy; maybe like it was 14 years ago and were just on a date and not two people trying to stay busy on the third anniversary of the worst day of their lives.  When the lights came back on, there was no getting around it: we are two grieving parents trying to get through our least favorite day of the year. I’m sorry I say that, because it should have been one of the happiest-top three-but it just didn’t work out that way.  

I wish I could look at this day from your sister’s point of view.  From the second she woke up she was excited.  “It’s Jack’s birthday, Mama!” And she immediately gave me my to-do list: buy birthday decorations and get cupcakes because we were going to have a party tonight for you.  She made a whole check list and everything-with hats, and flowers, and love, and family.  She baked cupcakes and licked the mixer (both of them one for her and yours too she said).  You see, she celebrates you.  She blows your candles out and sings for you, and how about that dance she choreographed for you to go along with the (semi)original birthday song (yes, that was the tune to “it’s a small world because Disney.). And your brother? She looped him right in on the festivities. 

The day was filled with lots of tears, lots of love sent our way, beautiful messages and flowers from our friends, your herd letting us know that you were thought of.

Your absence is so obvious to me.  Not a single one of those one thousand ninety five days has gone by where I have thought of you.  But I know you are here in so many ways.  Last night when I was up rocking your baby brother before bed and he reached up and touched my cheek- a gesture that seemed too old for a four-month-old, I can’t explain it in words the right way, but it was like you were there with us.  Or tonight as I came out of shower, where the tears flowed uncontrollably during the only fifteen minutes I had to myself, I heard your brother and sister laughing hysterically.  My first thought was ‘God, I wish he was here with them having fun on his special day,’ but as I listened to the giggling it was so clear-you were there with them-maybe acting as the invisible bridge between their five year age difference.  

I know you are here in some way, my sweet boy.  I know if you had lived you would have taught us so much.  We have still learned something from you that can only be learned circumstances like ours:  It is not life that tethers a family to each other-it’s love.  And that love is not Earth-bound; it stretches itself far beyond anywhere we can see.  You’ve showed us that, Jack Holden.  You are so very missed and so very loved.  

Happy birthday, baby.

Love,

Mommy 

The Happiest Place on Earth

The holidays are a magical time in general.  Add Disney World to it and there are just no words.  Disney, as a kid, seems amazing; like all of your dreams are coming true in front of your little eyes.  But as a parent?  My God, it’s like a religious experience to give your children those moments.  Watching them smile the most genuine smiles to have ever crossed their mouths and the light that dances in their eyes watching the fireworks and meeting the characters that have filled their TV screens? It’s absolutely epic. 

Christmas (all three installments of it) was a whirlwind.  For the most part it was really great.  Christmas Eve at Sean’s mom’s house was great, though when we sat the kids down for their yearly jammie photo it just about killed me to see them so grown up, and made my heart simultaneously swell and break to see my baby boy in there with them but his big brother still missing.  The big reveal of our trip Christmas morning was absolutely amazing especially since Kennedy was more thrilled by the fact that Carter would go to Disney for his first time (mind you, this would be her first trip too!).  We caught it on camera and it was seriously the stuff Disney World commercials are made of.  The rest of the day went by alright except that I didn’t get to go visit Jack’s grave that day and the guilt took me under by the end of the day.  I felt like a terrible mother.  It was Christmas.  His brother and sister were given tons of gifts and smothered in love and kisses yet I couldn’t even get to him for a quick visit.  I was angry-at myself, Sean, the universe-whatever and whoever I could rage at; and so I cried myself to sleep. 

I woke up dead set that I would be there first thing.  We were. It was a frigid cold that went right through you and with the snow covering everything it reminded me of the day we had picked out his spot almost three years before.  Kennedy excitedly told her brother we were going to Disney World and he can come with us to watch.  My tears froze to my jacket.  The tiny Christmas tree I left and the five minutes I could bear the cold just didn’t feel like enough but it was all I could manage that day.

Her count down had begun and she was so excited it made me wish that we had told her sooner and at the same time thankful that we hadn’t since I threatened (empty-I know) that we wouldn’t go at least twelve times in six days; any longer between the telling and the going could have been disastrous.   We packed and prepped and hoped for good weather. 

We flew down early and made our way to the hotel to get checked in and to the park as quickly as we could.  The second we stepped off of the bus I thought we would all burst.  The magic in that place just spills itself all over you and you have no choice but to let it.  You are walking around suddenly feeling with all of your being that you too need a hat with ears on it; it’s that intoxicating. 

I was watching my little girl for those four days walk around with a smile on her face that left me with a very sobering realization: there has been a lot of life weighing heavy on her heart. She is so sensitive to emotion-especially mine-that it has obviously taken its toll on her.  She will hear me talking in another room and if she hears any change in my voice, come running and ask, “Mama, why does your voice sound sad?” It’s not fair, I know this.  I will spend my life trying to make up for inadvertently putting too much on her little shoulders when I was grieving.  She may not even know that it happened-but I do and looking at her smiling face broke my heart as it occurred to me: she hasn’t really smiled like that in a very long time. And my God, did she ever smile. 

The kid lives for a thrill.  She was all about roller coasters and I felt amazed by the daringness she showed, never hesitating to get on line for another and never showing any anxiety about the unknown.  She humored us and rode the “little kid rides” too with her brother and I but was clearly unimpressed. 

Each time she hugged a character or got their autograph she would shriek, “Best Christmas present ever!” And it really was, for her to go, and for us to watch it all unfold. 

And just as Kennedy had told him he could, Jack followed us to The Happiest Place on Earth.  It was as if he made his presence know to us over and over: from the elephants that popped up all over (I just about lost my mind when I saw the baby elephant surrounded by the herd), to the grown girl with Down syndrome that sat down to talk with my girl-who conversed with her like they were old friends-he was letting us know he was there too.  We were a family of five on vacation at The Happiest Place on Earth.  Even in the pouring rain you couldn’t deny the beauty of it (what a metaphor for us). 

And so as the pixie dust wears off and we settle back into the mortal world these photos and those moments will give me life. They will help carry me through the rough days ahead.  My little boy would have turned three this month.  Three.  How can that be?  My heart aches at that thought. And his baby brother, I suspect, knows this somehow; knows I need to hug him a little tighter, breathe his scent a little deeper and take in all of his baby goodness. 

This year will be all about deep breaths of chaos- magical, magical chaos.

Happy New Year!