Unspeakable words

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The ache in my chest today for my baby boy is so unbelievably unbearable. Today, last year, we had what would be his last birthday party. It wasn’t his birthday, but it was the perfect day to celebrate.

And as the memories flood through me today…I can’t even put it to words. I knew today would be hard, but I never imagined how much so.

I want to talk and reminisce but my heart aches too much to make words come out. I feel literally paralyzed by the ache in my chest today.

I want to take Blake and Gabe out and make the day special for them, and I am just frozen on this couch, unable to move, barely able to breathe.

How? How can a child, who was so full of life, who never had a face that wasn’t smiling, who embraced everyone and everything, be gone? How can this be real?

Landon was just…the epitome of joy. And I feel like all the joy as been sucked from life today.

I can’t even theme this post with a silver lining. Today I write because it hurts too much to speak and what I’m feeling inside is just suffocating.

Blake and Gabe: I’m so sorry that mommy just isn’t mommy today. I’m sorry that the sun in shining and we are sitting inside. Mommy will try harder tomorrow.

Landon: I would give anything to see your face today, to hold you in my arms, and be watching you snatch cupcakes off the counter and eating them in a single bite. Not a day goes by that my heart doesn’t hurt for you, but today…my heart is bleeding for you. I miss you so much. Today my ache for you is something so powerful that words can’t do it justice. I love you, to infinity and beyond.

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The circle of (grief) life

Robert Kondo - Beat Board: Goodbye Andy - Impaginazione di Jason Katz e John Sanford - TOY STORY 3 (2010) - Dipinto digitale. ANSA / UFFICIO STAMPA PIXAR +++NO SALES - NO ARCHIVE - EDITORIAL USE ONLY+++ +++FOTO DA USARE SOLO IN RELAZIONE ALLA MOSTRA+++

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