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