Today is four years...four years since I had to say goodbye. No matter how much better I think I'm doing, I always feel completely empty today.
We went this morning to the hospital where you were born. We took a little blanket and preemie outfit to donate in your memory. I hate that another family will need it but I hate worse that I needed one of those donations. This year, I was actually able to say "Our son, Connor was born silently here four years ago" before I started crying. This is progress as last year I only got to your name. I know this is suppose to be a festive day and I hate that I set the tone first thing in the morning for the nurses with having to hand me tissues but this is my reality. Today sucks. I don't feel like celebrating or laughing. I want to cry. I want to curl up and sleep the day away. I want to hold you tight.
This year, Sean looked at me and started crying because I was. He gave me this huge hug and I just breathed him in for a minute. From the outside world, we look perfect. From the inside, my heart is forever broken.
My sister sent us a white rose for your first anniversary and then the second she sent two. Last year she sent three. Unfortunately, this year she sent only one. I still completely appreciate the gesture and thought, but I made my husband go out and buy three more white roses to mark his anniversary. I felt like an idiot but I knew I wasn't going to be better unless we just did it as it was a tradition that I really liked.
We also went to the Detroit parade yesterday. It's so hard as a.) Detroit is a complete dump b.) St. Patrick's Day is a day for drinking and hence not the best group of people to expose your children to c.) the actual parade consists mostly of high school Detroit bands. I just find I want the world to cry during these two days not be all happy and carefree. However, this is the tradition that Pete wanted to do each year, so we went. Keira loved the action and Sean was terrific.
It's 4 p.m. and I'm still waiting for a number of people to call. I'm so afraid of people forgetting that I dread going into the evening. What if they forget...if it's only been four years and they already forgot who else will in another 4. I wish it was enough for me to just say I remember but it's not. I want the world to stop for him. I want the world to remember my son. I want the world to honor my son.
I don't know what you would be doing right now. I don't know if you would be writing your own little birthday note. I don't know if you would have had a preference of a birthday theme party. I don't know what toy I would have picked out for you. I hate that I don't know and I hate that I'm not creative enough to guess.
I do know that your grandfather is with you telling secrets and making sure you enjoy yourself today. But I would really appreciate it if the two of you would just send me a little sign that helps give me a little peace (the kind where I would feel nuts if I told anyone). Please...I desperately need something...anything to help with this emptiness.
I love you.