Moving On...

Even though I title this entry as "moving on" the trick is, there is none. I recently discovered an insight about what I thought the loss of my child would be, comparing it to a broken foot. In talking to a co-worker, who was kind enough to listen, I said to her, "I guess I thought it would be like breaking your foot. It hurts, it heals, and then life goes on and everything is back to normal." Well, I have most certainly discovered that there is no normal. There is nothing that I can sit here and firmly say, "this is how it will be." I can't predict how I will feel tomorrow, let alone in five minutes. I cannot predict how something someone says will affect me. I cannot predict how many times I will think of my precious angel. Most of my thoughts are of him. I feel like I have to justify this regarding my living children, but the truth is, they are always in my thoughts, too. But I get to hold them, and kiss them, and discipline them. I get to cook them dinner and tuck them into bed at night. I get to teach them right and how to be responsible. I get to laugh with them and watch movies with them. And for Jonathan, I only get to imagine what my life would be like if I could hold him in my arms. Most of the time I like to close my eyes and remember how peaceful and perfect it felt to hold him close to me. His lifeless little body brought me so much comfort. The truth is that this life is fragile. And as many tears as I cry for my beloved angel baby, that tells me he was here. And he was real. And I love him. I cannot make any new memories, but I can find ways to make sure that the ones I already have live on in my heart, in my family, and in this life. I know you were here and although I cannot see you, I can feel you every second of the day. Someday I will see you again, and that day, my sweet boy, will be the best day of my life.