10-26

As the day draws to a close I lay silently in my bed. I cry. No need to bring attention to myself. I feel lonely, this is the day 27 years ago that we found out our Son had died. This sudden urge to be with him, hold him pulls at me. I jump up and proceed to look for the weighted heart we had been gifted after Lainey's death. His heart with his name weighs in at 6lbs 3 ounces, exactly his birth weight. It's not in my dresser where it used to live. We've moved twice since then. I started digging in my closet, in Lainey's box. It's not there, neither is her weighted heart. I search under my bed, in Ricky's box. It's not there either. Where could it be? It would have been packed, but where? Tears stream down my face as I lay back down. My thoughts carry me to boxes in the basement. What else am I missing? Then I play thoughts of the last few days- a family wedding, two this year. My cousins, aged 27 and 25. Ricky would have been 27, would he be married by now? Would he have children? All that is lost, feels heavy. 

I've received an unexpected package in the mail, I'll save it for tomorrow, for a bright spot in my day. Someone invited me to lunch, I think I'll accept, I NEED to accept. I somehow sleep, not before begging my son to let me see him in my dreams. 

Morning comes. It's my birthday and the last day I saw my son on this earth, 27 years ago. I held him for the smallest moment, then I never held him again. How could I not hold him again? Nurses offered for me to hold him, I was so young. I have so many regrets from that time, how was I supposed to know? Why didn't someone tell me something? I wanted to wear a necklace I was given when Lainey was born, it had broken and I can't find it. I had received a replacement, but I've never worn it. Today would be the day, 1st time out of the box, it's tarnished. I don't know how to clean it before work. I have to set it aside. I start digging around for the necklace with Lainey and Ricky's name, I can't find it. Did we leave it at the log cabin? Is it gone forever? My mind races back to the basement, what box could it possibly be in, in the basement? I don't think any of them, I don't see how it's possible. How could I leave such treasured items behind? 

I remember my package, a gift from my best friend Angie. A calming bracelet, an air plant and gardening soap. To say it's a perfect gift would be an understatement. I'm crazy about the air plant, the bracelet- she knows me so well and the gardening soap, just wait until I get some dirt on my hands! A thoughtful surprise, a blessing, a bright spot to my day. Here's my dilemma, I can walk around all day faking happiness, or I can be miserable, I FEEL miserable. Don't you people remember how awful this day is for me? Don't you people get it? Some times it's HARD to have a happy birthday when that is the day my son was gone. I'm torn among the living, trying to be happy, trying not to make people feel bad, people who care, people who want me to be happy. Responding to the text messages, thanking people for their love and support feels forced, and yet I am genuinely appreciative. Perhaps I need to be appreciative tomorrow? I would feel awful to receive no well wishes at all. This is a no win, the right thing to do evades me. 

Tonight, I'll have to face my family. They'll expect and want me to be happy, how can I be when two of them are missing? If I'm not happy people become easily frustrated with me, wonder why they bother, they can't win either. It's so hard to forcibly be happy when I just want to die inside, die of grief, what's missing, what should have been...it'll pass. It has to pass. 

Son- I wish you were here. I somehow wish that by you being here everything would be ok, that maybe we'd be a cohesive family unit, one that likes each other, plays games, gets along. Please bring us back together. Help us to love each other and have fun with each other again. I'm so sorry, you didn't get to live this life with us. I'm 27 years closer to you, I love you. Happy Birthday!