9.13
Your due date is inscribed on my heart, my sweet lost little boy.
Today you would have been 2.
And I know, I know with everything in me that you still live. You live in my Savior's arms. You are watched by those who have gone before. You are held. You live in a world of no pain, no tears, and no despair.
And I know, my sweetest boy, that I will see you again. But my mother's heart is torn this day. My soul is wounded with your loss.
There is a pull between what is here and what is not- after all, without losing you I would not have Sam. But my arms still ache to have held you, just once. To have kissed your forehead. To have whispered to you to wait for me, and one day, I will come to you.
Even without the tangible remembrance of you in my arms, I still feel you. I watched as everyday a creature would come and sit on your resting place. I watched as butterflies flitted about your statue. And now every time I see a butterfly I think of you, and say hello to your little soul.
And now, Lily does the same- shouting out "Hello baby Joshua!" each time a butterfly passes by. It heals me, this knowing that in some small way, you are remembered.
We were in church yesterday, and the pastor spoke of trauma, saying it was not something you get over, but something that you absorb. And I finally had words for what I feel. I will never be over you. But you, my sweet one, are absorbed into every single fiber of my being. You are remembered in my soul.
I carry you far longer in my heart than I did in my body. And I love you more than words can say.
One day...
Love,
Mama
