I wake up in the morning and wonder if it's really true.
Is Sam really gone? It's so hard to believe, to hold onto, to comprehend...he's just not coming back.
I'm trying to wrap my brain around the idea that I will never again take a photograph with his face amongst the others.
I will really and truly never kiss his little head again or argue over the merits of one kind of macaroni and cheese versus another.
He will never again weigh in on a movie or read another book.
He won't make snarky comments to his doctors and nurses or find another bug in the backyard.
And sometimes I almost feel as though his whole life was a fleeting dream.
Was he really here?
It was so brief, so short.
He didn't do so many things.
He never even went to second grade...it's like he just wasn't there.
So much of life, just....unlived.
Maybe I was just dreaming his life...how do I hold onto it and remember it and pin it down into something tangible....
Sixty days have gone by.
I don't feel much more settled or stable than I did 30 days ago.
It seems like it was just yesterday...and it feels like forever.
|Sam at about 60 days old|
|Another one - about 60 days old|
|60 days before he died, reading an optical illusion book that made him throw up.|
|We did a lot of reading 60 days before he died. Hey, that book he is reading, you can buy it! Proceeds go to the Go Bo Foundation, in memory of our friend Bo and supporting the work of the MACC Fund.|