Dear Jack,
You’d be two today.
Two. How can that be? It doesn’t
seem possible. None of this does. It still doesn’t seem real that you came and
left so quickly. I remember thinking
that I could never move forward after you went to heaven and, yet, here we are
two years later; a second trip around the sun.
As usual, your mama was all about the build up. Getting myself nice and worked up the days
leading up to it. In my mind it softens
the blow. It doesn’t in reality, and so
waking up without you today was just as terrible as every other day these last
seven hundred and twenty nine days. As
soon as I opened my eyes, there was no disorientation-I knew exactly what day
it was and the first of my tears for today slipped out. But I told myself that I would hold it
together enough to go to your sister who was calling for me.
And you know what, Jack?
The second I opened her door, in her sweet muddled accent that I always
wonder if you would have had too, she said, “Hey you know what, Mama? It’s Jack’s birthday today!” I know you saw her smile and I can guess how
it made you feel because I could feel how excited she was to celebrate
you. And in that one tiny gesture she
changed my perspective. Cry? Yes, I was going to cry there was no getting
around that, but we would celebrate you today.
So we read two books to “send up” to you- I hope you liked them as much
as she did.
It was Pajama Day at school today and Kennedy had been so
excited that it was the same day as your birthday. She kept telling everyone they were having PJ
day for your birthday and a bounce house too.
I laughed to myself wondering if she was going to tell everyone at
school that and what type of details she would add too it-she’s great for an
awkward moment, that sister of yours. So
Daddy and I dropped her off and made our way to your spot.
It’s a sloppy snow here and so our footprints tracked mud in
front of you. I hated that we ruined it-everyone
else had a fresh coat of snow but it was clear people had been there to see you
so I was fine with that too. It was
freezing cold and while I don’t remember much of that day the weather reminded
me of the morning we brought you there two years ago and if made me
crumble. I’m sorry-I try not to cry so
hard when I’m there but today I couldn’t help it and it was a loud, ugly cry
but I had to let it out before Kennedy came back later with us because I hate
to make her nervous. I hope the flowers
last more than a night in the cold but it’s January and so I’m not too hopeful. Flowers seem ridiculous to bring a baby boy
on his birthday but we couldn’t go empty-handed.
Your dad was wonderful today. I know when you look down you can see what a
good man he is. He hates to see me sad
but, though it goes against everything he is as a person, he lets me cry when I
need too, he doesn’t try to fix it anymore.
There is no fixing this: you are gone from me and that is never going to
be something my heart can get right with.
So he hugged me a lot today and he squeezed my hands. When he said, “Happy birthday, buddy,” I
could remember him holding you so clearly and recall how much he loved you
already. He may not talk about it all
the time, but he misses you, Jackie.
When we picked up Kennedy from Baba’s house she told us all
about her day and how much fun she’d had but when I told her my idea for the
night she lit up like the sun and the PJ party was old news. We made our way to the store to the dessert
counter and she walked around and around, carefully deciding what she was going
to pick. I talked her out of the
fourteen inch chocolate cake that no one but Daddy would have eaten (we have to
help the guy out where be can, Jack) and instead she settled on a big
buttercream frosted cupcake. When I
asked the girl behind the counter for one Kennedy quickly and loudly interrupted
me and said, “No, two!” and as I started to disagree she said, “Mommy, its my
brudda’s birthday, we have to get two.”
And so we did. On the way out of
the store she asked for a balloon and picked out a pink one for herself. Then she told the lady helping us, “It’s by
brother’s birthday today! He’s two!” to which the woman said we had to send one
home for him too. Your sister began to
share that you’d died but thank the Lord for the loud helium tank and we avoided
the sad, awkward-stranger encounter.
The whole way to the cemetery she talked about she couldn’t
wait to send your balloon up to heaven and hoped your friends wouldn’t steal it
from you. I assured her it wouldn’t
happen as I smiled to myself at the idea that you have a little squad up there
with you. When we pulled up she was out
of the car in record time and could barely wait for me to get my phone out to
capture a few moments of it. Watching
her let it go and look towards the sky to you and jump up and down telling you
to have fun- my God, Jack, it’s those kinds of things that let me draw my next
breath that keep me going. She loves you
so much and so deeply. And she misses
you- I know this in the way she talks about you unprompted, and out of nowhere
sometimes; or when she talks about how she would have helped you reach the
counter to get you snacks you wanted, and that’s love, little man. We watched your balloon disappear (I
apologize to any animal that this balloon affects or the environment in
advance) and we made our way home to finish celebrating.
When we got home, some of our friends, people that love you
and your family so much, had sent some things to cheer us up and show how much
they care. Your herd is growing so big,
Jack. So many of them were incredibly
generous today in honor of your memory and we are able to help so many people
because of gestures like that made all of the time. We sent you a wish lantern again this
year. I always have to be careful when
it comes to wishes because I have to remind my heart that it can’t wish for you
to be here but I can wish for you to feel our love for you and for our family
to feel peace even in your absence and for you to watch over your sister and
guide and protect her like she would have done for you. As we watched it sail away I sent all of
those thoughts out into the universe and prayed nothing caught fire nearby (so
far no fire alarms).
We ate dinner as quick as we could because a certain little
lady was rushing the dessert portion of the celebration. And so we placed the number two candle that
we still had in the junk drawer from Kennedy’s second birthday (and I silently
thanked Nana for once for passing on her pack rat tendencies to me). And we
sang to you. Loudly and with hearts
filled with love (our voices are just angelic- I know) and your big sister took
care of the candle, just like I’m sure she would have if you had been here.
I got through today as best I could with a piece of my heart
missing. Like I said, I feel the loss of
you in an enormous way every day but, if at all possible, more acutely
today. I told your dad today that it
makes me sad to remember how heavy my heart was all that time ago, and almost
sadder still to know that there is a bit of lightness to it now. It's not that I’m less sad, by any means, I think it’s just that my heart figured out how to re-distribute the sadness so I
could carry it a little easier. I miss
you terribly, my sweet boy. Today my
heart literally aches for you. I held
your bear today and willed myself back there, not that it’s hard to do, and I
breathed you in again.
I’m doing my best to live a life that can make you proud;
one that doesn’t cause you to have to watch over me too closely so that you can
have fun with those friends and play with your new puppy, Honey (no she’s never
going to stop licking your feet-it’s her thing). You are never far from my heart and like the
book we read this morning said, “I wanted you more than you ever will know, so I
sent love to follow wherever you go…”
Happy birthday, Jack Holden.
You are so loved.
Love,
Mommy
