It has been 9 months. And this seems so significant to me for some reason. Landon left this life on the 9th day of the 9th month in the 9th year of his life. And here were are 9 months later, still living in disbelief at times, but none the less still living. Still moving forward and still loving our boy as fiercely as when he was here. Still carrying his memory and his legacy, still sharing his life, and of course, still missing him. And those are things we will always do. Always with a heart that isn’t quite whole, but always with love, with joy, and with appreciation for having had someone so outstandingly beautiful in our lives to love and to miss.
The grieving process has been….strange. And unpredictable. And a million other tiny little things. Continue reading
I haven’t written in months. The “writer’s block” I’ve been experiencing isn’t for a lack of having thoughts constantly swirling through my mind that needed out, but more of lack of knowing how to put them out. And maybe that isn’t even true. Maybe I’ve been afraid of how those thoughts may be perceived, how I myself may be perceived for feeling the way I do. But if I’ve learned anything through all of this, it’s that life is short, and living it for me, in a way that I feel is authentic and true to who I am and who I want to be is what’s important.
From the time my boys were diagnosed, and especially since Landon died, people have had plenty of words of wisdom and platitudes to offer to try and comfort me or help me make sense of what has happened and more importantly, why it happened. And I 100 percent believe people have said the things they have with the sincere intention of making me feel better or to try and comfort me in times where comfort was impossible. The thing is: those platitudes that have been engrained in our minds for comfort and meaning have never been helpful, they have never made me feel better, and in all honesty, they have often times been just as upsetting as the situation itself.
It has been quite sometime since I blogged. So much has been packed into the last few months, and I have yet to blog about Landon’s fantastic trip to Disney World, which as I said, was fantastic and memorable in every way. But right now, my mind isn’t in a place to do that entry justice. My mind is in a place that I desperately want out of.
This year has gotten off to a rough start for our MPS community. In the first 19 days, we have lost 2 boys, another is fighting for his life, and a beautiful young lady may have just had her last birthday on Earth, as her body is tired and nearing the end of its fight. As parents of these children, I know that we all take the lose of and struggles of our kids very personally and always wonder when our turn will be. Because it’s inevitable. We all face the same fate and it’s not a matter of “if” but “when.”
We’re going to Disney World! This phrase is synonymous with excitement, joy, and anticipation for those lucky enough to have uttered it. For us, it is totally bittersweet: equal parts excitement and dread. I’m sure that raises a few eyebrows, so let me explain why…
Writing my letter to Landon was hard. Trying to put 8 years of love, pain, and things I’ve wanted to say to my precious child into words was difficult, but its time to continue, and to tell Blake what is in my heart and what I want him to know.
It occurred to me that all three of my boys are at the same place in their cognitive development, none being able to express their thoughts, feelings, and needs in words. Even without having this ability, Gabriel not quite yet, and Landon or Blake, who will never have it, my boys have taught me so many things about life, love, and happiness that go so far beyond any words that they could possibly utter.
And so, I want to use my words, regardless of whether they are heard or understood, to express my love and gratitude to my sons.
My first letter is dedicated to my beautiful, first born son.
This weekend has been so busy! Gabriel turned one yesterday, and we had a wonderful time celebrating his first year with our family and friends. I still can’t believe it’s already been a year since he came into our lives. He is so full of personality, so smiley, and at times so stubborn, but he has been such a blessing to our family and I couldn’t imagine our life without him.
I have to admit though, at times I feel like a first time mom with him. After going through what we have with Landon and Blake, I find myself worrying about things that I don’t think I would, had we not been through so much already.
As long as I live, I will never forget the utter despair or the sickening feeling that consumed me the day that our lives changed forever. Even now, reliving it through these words has my stomach in knots. As hard I as I try, I don’t know if I will ever accurately be able to put to words the way it feels to have everything ripped away in a split second by three letters. It’s a devastation I would not wish on my worst enemy.
As I mentioned, the physical therapist, Jann, at Landon’s school had arranged for her and Landon’s teacher, Miss Iverson, to come over to our apartment to talk about what she thought may be going on with Landon. As soon as they walked in the door, I could feel it. This was serious. Landon’s teacher was a very sweet young woman, not much older than me. I’ll never forget the look on her face. She looked at me with eyes full of sympathy, and appeared to be very nervous and on the brink of tears.
They came into the living room and sat down. Jann (PT) had some papers in her hand. She handed them to me and asked me to look at the pictures on the page. I had to do a double take….the little boy on the paper could have been Landon’s long lost twin. The resemblance was uncanny. I then noticed that website in the upper corner of the paper had been scribbled over with a permanent marker, along with every mention of the name of this disorder.