It felt a lot like walking around every day, missing Sammy.
I've heard it described as a pebble in your shoe or a brick in your pocket.
It's a constant awareness of something that's just-not-quite-right. Something off. Something that weighs me down a little, or makes it hard to execute a "move" that I would have, once upon a time, been able to do with a little bit more grace. It's knowing that no matter what I do, it's not the same. It's not the way it used to be.
After a while, we put the blocks down. The next move felt lighter, different. But it was still changed. The block had changed how I did the pose. Just that short time with a new thought pattern...and I was different.
I can't imagine ever putting this down. I can't imagine the day when the ache won't be so big.
And I can't even imagine that I will ever be fully the same. I will always be different, changed, adjusted....I might even look the same on the outside.
But the block is always there.
Oh, Sammy. I miss you so much.
317 days since we kissed him goodbye
One year ago, we carved pumpkins and Sammy felt well.
Two years ago, we eye-bombed the hospital, in what became our signature move.
Continuing the fight against pediatric cancer every day.
|Carving pumpkins last year, October 2013|
|In the hospital, October, 2012|
|Carving at pumpkin fest in 2011|
|October 2009, making a face "like a pumpkin," he said|