I miss you. Have I told you that lately? Of course I have. I tell you that daily. But do you hear me? Do you truly hear me? It’s so hard to be here without you, baby. As your mom, I’m supposed to know where you are every second. When your heart breaks, my heart is supposed to break. When you cry, I cry. When you’re happy, I’m happy. What is a mama to do when her child is gone? Where does all that go? I think it’s just added to that dark abyss inside my heart—that black hole where all things painful go.
You would be five this year … five. It is a uniquely hard birthday for us, harder in that I know exactly what you would be doing now if you were here. You would be starting kindergarten and making new friends. I would be hustling you back and forth to school and activities. I often wonder what you would look like. I picture a five-year-old boy with a book bag, ball cap and a baby face, and I cry knowing that I will never know exactly what that sweet baby face would look like today.
The more time that goes by and the more birthdays that pass, I feel your absence even more. The emptiness in our family is like a cancer that consumes everything in its path. We are not whole without you … we are doing our best to hold it all together. It’s a constant struggle to teeter the line of happiness and just getting by. I wish your death hadn’t left this hole in us. You were such a ray of light in our life. You brought us more happiness than I’ll ever be able to convey … now, when I think of you my heart aches. I feel this constant yearning … a yearning to hold you once more. God, if I could only have one more minute to give you a birthday kiss. One minute to tell you how much I love and miss you. I would give anything … anything for just those 6o seconds.
Like we do every year, we are celebrating your birthday. We will find a restaurant like we did last year and make sure a candle is blown out and the birthday song is sung. I guess we could sit at home and wallow about how crappy it is that you are not here with us to celebrate … lock ourselves in our home and avoid the obnoxious fact that while we grieve you on your birthday, the rest of the world keeps turning unaware of what it’s lost. As millions of parents pick their kindergartners up from school, your family will be celebrating their kindergartner’s birthday without their kindergartner. I promise I try really, really hard to be happy on days like this. I try hard to understand what this all means … why and how we got chosen for this backwards lottery.
I hope wherever you are that you are able to look down on all of us and see that you are still very much a member of our family—one that is just as important as the ones that are still physically here. The love we have for you spans all time and space. I hope the love you have for us does the same so I’ll be able to feel some small part of that on your big day.
I miss you. I miss you so much. Have I told you that lately? Of course I have. But do you hear me? Do you truly hear me? If you can … happy birthday Nash. We love you always and forever