Four

My sweet baby boy,

You would have been four today.  Now how can that be?  How can it have been that long?

I can still remember every single second of this day four years ago and the days before and after, the weight of you in my arms, every curve of your face, and the way your tiny hand felt in mine like it was just moments ago; my heart still aches like it was. 

The last few days have been hard.  I can’t help but run through everything over and over again.  I sometimes wish I could forget some of it; that it would dull around the edges even just a little bit.  Then there are other times I cling to those memories, praying that I remember every last detail; it’s all I have of you.  Or is it?

I have your dad, a man that loves in a way that makes it impossible not to believe in true love.  A man that loves his children so deeply that it stretches to the heavens.  You did that.

Then there is your sister.  She is empathetic, brave, and caring.  Kennedy is such a good big sister; she’d do anything to show how much she loves her brothers.  That’s you too.

And your baby brother; Carter has brought so much peace to our hearts- peace that, four years ago, I never thought we’d find again.  It’s in his quiet way with the larger than life personality that peeks through, or the way he hugs me tight before bed, that makes me believe you are in there too. 

I don’t know if you have to make wishes in heaven, but just in case you don’t, I have a few birthday wishes for you.   I wish for you to feel me with you, sweet boy, the part of me that left with you that day.   I wish for you to hear me sing each night to your brother and sister, because I am singing for you too.  I wish for you to feel the love that is being spread in your name through Jack’s Herd and feel proud of how profoundly your short, beautiful life has impacted so many others.  

Oh Jack, my heart hurts today and the tears won’t stop falling.  Your sister, upset and frustrated last night, told me we can’t celebrate your birthday without you, that it’s not right. She didn’t say it to upset me and I tried not to let on how bad it hurt but she wasn’t wrong.  This isn’t right; it wasn’t supposed to be this way.  I should be anxiously preparing a birthday party that I went overboard with, driving Daddy nuts with the details he thinks are silly, not worrying about picking the right flowers to leave by your spot today. But here we are.  

So today I will cry.  Today I will mourn all that was lost, and trust me, with each passing day with your brother and sister, we know just how much we lost of you four years ago. Today is the day for tears and tomorrow we will celebrate you.  

Kennedy made you cupcakes and blew out your candle and Carter ate it for you.  I heard her whisper in the kitchen, "I wished that we could come up to heaven and say hi to you on your birthday and then come back home."  I take more comfort than I expected in knowing you will celebrate with Papa this year.  Not too much ice cream; you Doyle boys tend to overdo it!  

Jack Holden, there is not a day that has passed where my heart does not call out for you.  I love you with every ounce of my heart.  Happy 4th Birthday, baby.

You are so loved and you are so missed.

All of my love,

Mommy

Send me a Sign

I like to think that I’m pretty observant of most things in my surroundings: people, environment, emotions, etc.  I listen to music and really hear the lyrics, I notice small changes in people’s demeanor or typical moods, and I read almost every billboard I pass.  I take things in and often take them for what they are; information about what is happening, what I am experiencing, or what is out there. But I wouldn’t say I ever really believed in signs or looked for them in things.  I know there are so many people that do and I respect that and then silently wonder to myself if I have just been ignoring signs that have been right in front of me, not really as observant as I think I am.  But there is a song by The Band Perry called “If I Die Young” with a verse that goes:

     ‘Lord, make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother, she’ll know I’m safe with you when she stands under my colors...’

Ever since Jack died and I’ve seen a rainbow in my heart I believe he is saying hi to me; letting me know that he is there.  It’s a sign I can’t ignore.  I see them when my heart seems to call out for him the most.  There was a rainbow over my house the day we brought Carter home from the hospital; his big brother saying hello, letting us know he was there with us all too.

Two things have happened since Dennis, Sean's dad,  passed away last month that I haven’t been able to wrap my head around.  I haven’t been able to find an explanation for.  And there is a big part of me that has come to the point in my heart that I am comfortable accepting as signs from above.

The day after he died, his house was filled with family that had come down to be with him during his final days.  Not only was it a house filled with bodies but also tears and sadness and a lot of Irish mourners (if you’re Irish, you smell what I’m cooking!).  Now I’m not saying we are empaths, I’m not being that dramatic, but I will go as far to say that Kennedy and I pick up on other people’s emotions very strongly, especially the heavy ones.  I could see it weighing on her little shoulders and her heart as she was desperately trying to remain upbeat and happy and make everyone smile; but I could also see the distress on her little face when she didn’t think anyone was looking or the way she just couldn’t settle.  And so I told her to grab her shoes and coat and to get in the car.  I was going to take her to a wonderfully packed-full-of-stuff-we-don’t-need touristy store that we like to go to when we visit Calabash so we could do a little retail therapy and take a few breaths away from the crowd.  So, we got in the car, I typed Callahan’s of Calabash into my navigation and off we went.  We chatted while we drove about Papa and being sad, as she asked if I thought we’d be sad for a long time, like we are about Jack.  I hated telling her yes, but I wouldn’t lie; I told her being sad is different for everyone, that it would probably take a while before we didn’t feel so sad.  We called my mom and talked to her for a few minutes.  As I was driving, things looked familiar enough to me that I thought I knew where we were going.  It was only when we approached the bridge that I realized: we were being directed to Sunset Beach; the very beach we went to with Dennis each time we visited.  It is Kennedy’s favorite place down there and we all knew it. It has always been the first suggestion for something to do because it was clear there is nothing Kennedy loves more than splashing in the water, and there was nothing her Papa loved more than making Kennedy happy.  I couldn’t believe it; there was no logical explanation for why we were headed there when I had very clearly typed in the right destination.  I laughed and said to Kennedy, “I think Papa thinks we need a beach day!” She laughed too, responding, “Papa loved the beach like me!” It was cold and windy that day, even for a northerner’s standards and I had left my coat at the house, but I should have kept going.  I should have followed the sign all the way through.  Even though I didn’t, I heard it loud and clear.  I told a few people when we got back to the house but it was one of things you had to be there for the wonder to really set in.

The second sign came last weekend as we made our way back home after the memorial that was held for Dennis.  It had been a month since he’d passed and it had been decided then that there would be no traditional services.  He had preferred a big party where people would laugh and share stories and drinks and so that is what it was; a true celebration of life.  It was beautiful and devastating to see how loved he was and just how greatly he will be missed.  Sean and his brother James spoke of their dad to everyone and my heart broke for them all over again.  It kills me that this wonderful boy I fell in love with all those years ago has had to bury both his son and his father before his 35th birthday; it just doesn’t seem fair to me.  I could see a sadness settle on Sean’s shoulders.  The month between Dennis’ passing and the memorial kept things fresh. But now that was over; he was really gone.  

We were making our way back upstate and literally drove through every type of weather there is: rain, sleet, snow, hail, sun.  It was bizarre.  It was also the type of weather anomaly that Sean would have normally called his dad to tell him about.  And, just like that, we saw a rainbow.  Now I know you may be thinking ‘That’s not surprising. You just said it was raining and sunny.’  What we were seeing was the end of the rainbow, or perhaps more accurately, the beginning. This, for me, was an enormous sign. The last time I saw him, I asked Dennis to please take care of my baby and he promised he would.  I knew, in my heart, he was trying to tell me ‘I’ve got him; me and Jack are together.‘  I cried. I cried because I was sad, because I felt relieved, and because at that moment I missed those two Doyle men more than my heart felt like it could stand.  

Are signs really a thing?  Is the Universe really telling us things?  Are those we’ve loved and lost really trying to send us a message?  I don’t know.  Part of me, the logical, rational part of me says probably not-it’s more likely our subconscious thoughts and hopes making their way to the surface.  But my heart-the part of me that took over almost four years ago- tells me that, without a doubt, they are real.  Listen to them.  Let them comfort you.  There are far worse things to believe in than those that give you peace. 

So Dennis, if you and Jackie-boy want to send us anymore, I’m all ears.