When Johua Died I didn't have much experience with death. Actually that's not true. I had experience with death, grandparents, a couple of friends, great grand parents, Ants, Uncles... But no one who I had not expected to die before me. I never imagined my child dying. I had never lived the day to day life of someone who was trying to hold together broken pieces of themselves while pieces were missing.
That is as close as I can come to explaining how I feel. Part of me is missing. And while yes I know, they aren't coming back and I logically understand that death is permanent, I had never realized how forever fit in.
Last weekend while watching the kids running around the yard I felt a cool brease. My thoughts quickly turned to my son, who is not here. I thought of how his 2nd birthday is in 6 weeks and it hit me.... "I can't fix this". There is nothing I can do to feel whole. There is nothing I can say to make it better. I'm broken. It's always going to be this way.
While his 2nd birthday coming the knowledge of Faith and Hope's would be birthdays are looming. I see beautiful little girls and wonder what they would have been this year for Halloween. Thing one and two maybe? Peanut Butter and Jelly? I wonder if they would be walking yet. If they would have liked a sucker or two.
All the thinking won't help. It dosent change. I will go to sleep tonight and dream of how perfect they are. How their faces light up as they laugh. And I will wake tomorrow with a broken heart. Fake it though another day, and try to put together pieces that don't fit anymore.
I will always miss them. I will always love them. I will always wonder who they would have been.