Eight

You're supposed to be 8 tomorrow. Eight...what should be a day filled with dirt and skinned knees and driving your siblings crazy will instead be yet another reminder of your absence. It will be a day spent, in part, in oblivion....because that's the only way I can make it through the day. It will be a day of close family and friends, holding me up and allowing me to just "be". It will be a day of gifts you'll never open and cake you'll never eat. It will scrape at my soul and open that wound yet again, so that I feel it in its entirety.

Sara and I bought your lanterns last Monday. It's become a tradition, and one that we both dread actually. It's hard. It never gets easier, and each year we add one more lantern. Eight of them will light up the sky this year. Eight. I can't seem to wrap my head around that.

I know you're aware of the changes in our lives lately. I have no doubt you orchestrated our path, and will be with us as we travel to meet your sisters next week. And still there is that part of me that screams out in pain, hoping that you know you can never be replaced. Your presence in my life will never take a back burner.  I cannot, WILL NOT exclude you when telling others that I have several children. I have 6 children. It sounds crazy to some, and for those who dig deeper and ask your ages, they'll hear that you are no long here with me. That fact is often met with an "I'm sorry" and an "oh, so you'll have 5 in your home then..." almost as if this is better, as if this lightens the load. What they don't know is that parenting you hasn't stopped for me. In fact, in some ways it has become more present in the past few years as the rawness of early grief shifts into moments of wondering "what if". I very much have 6 children. Three are in my home and three are currently outside my reach. Please know that the physical presence of your sisters, and the coming together of our family is only complete with you there.

I make no promises on your birthday.  I spend the day trying to remember how to breathe...in and out...in and out....and occasionally hoping I'll forget how. I love you with my whole being, sweet boy. I love all eight years of you....EIGHT.