His bright, happy smile the center of attention. His big blue eyes taking it all in, tucking away into his heart. Me, taking an obscene amount of photos, wanting to capture the memory forever. Me wanting to catch that look of sweet, pure joy on my sons’ face. Deliriously happy children, screaming, running, playing.
This is how I imagine Brennan’s 5th birthday.
The only memories I have of him are the few short months he grew under my heart. And 12 of the shortest hours of my life that I was able to spend holding, loving, wailing over my son. There are so many dreams that were held in place for him. My grief is this: I didn’t know who he was. His personality I will never know. I simply love him fiercely because he is my child. My beautiful surprise.
Over last few weeks I have been extremely lazy and without much motivation except to rot my brain with mindless activities and my body with junk food. My house is a mess and my heart hurts. I have been short-tempered with my kids and husband, real bitchy. New layers of grief appear when I least expect it. I thought maybe this year would be better
in being able to handle the load of grief. Seems like it’s worse than last year.
My heart is bursting with pain. I want him back.
*Fernando Ortega, “This Bright Hour”