9.

Nine.
9. 9. 9. 9. 9. 9. 9. 9. 9.
How is that possible?

I thought the days leading up would be the worst. That perhaps nine would be a year where the anticipation was worse than the sting of the day.  I was wrong.

The screams of Christmas woke me from my slumber on September 15th and I realized that Jonasen had discovered the 50 balloons I blew up for him the night before.  On a night where I could say, "Nine years ago tonight I didn't know..." He ran upstairs to my bed and threw his nine year old arms around me and said, "Thank you mom!" I held him tight(er) though he probably didn't notice~ He was off in moments to rejoin the laughter of his younger siblings and I was alone with my thoughts.

Jeff joined me soon.  He was tired.  He had woke early to get donuts for our 9 year old Joe, and to sit and remember Andrew.  Something that he needed to do alone.  Something that I too needed to do alone but this year being a Saturday, it was a luxury I didn't have. Jeff reminded me I should get going to the garden... We had soccer games later.

I felt the water with my hand and stepped in.  My eyes closed and I felt I was in our old shower.  The one in the house he should have come home to.  The shower I sunk to my knees in praying I could wash the bad dream of losing him from my being.  My hands went to my face and my body shook. This wasn't happening.  Why was this happening? I had done this before.  Nine times.  9.

But then I realized, I had never grieved a nine year old before.

Nine.

An age I remember. An age of opinions and thoughts. An age of wonderings of the world. The year before a decade.

I sunk and cried and like those days of long ago can't recall how I got up, toweled off and readied myself to face the living.

No make-up today.  The sun was shining and I was thankful I would be wearing my sunglasses to hide my tired, sad eyes.  For how could I be sad? Nine years ago today I became a mother and he became a father.

I met him in the hallway and he took me in his arms.  Again I sank and he lifted me.  We stayed there for a while until he whispered, "Go. Don't let them see you like this."

I scooped my keys, the candles, the marker, his journal and the fire and I was off to buy his balloons.
Nine.

I got to the garden and walked the path I had walked so many times. On this day.  September 15th. With balloons in hand, I walked to her brick, I wrote her I loved her and thanked her for coming to my dreams.  I kissed her balloon and sent it to the sky.

And then I went there.
To his brick.
With his balloons.
And I sat.
And I sunk.
And I sobbed.
Nine.

I wrote him I loved him. I told him it all. I kissed each of his nine balloons for the nine years he's been away and I watched until they were gone. Faded into the blue.  Faded from sight~ and soon from memory.

I closed my eyes and I didn't see him at 9.  I imagined our reunion.  Him a young man, stepping out to see me when I got home.  Taking me into his arms and saying, "Welcome home, mom.  I got all of your kisses, all of your tears, all of those many, many balloons. Welcome home.  Welcome home."

The game was starting and I knew I had to go. Unlike years past I had to stay strong. I was meant to be here. Meant to stay.  The reunion will have to wait. But one day it will happen.

And I am 9 years closer.

9.

September 15th

To watch on You Tube, click here

Seven Years. Today.

Seven years ago, it was warm.
I was in a white T-shirt and khaki shorts and they were the only thing that I could wear at that point. You and your brother were getting so big! I had to sleep sitting in a chair because you were so heavy on my lungs.

Seven years ago, I wondered if today would be the day. My calendar had a big circle around the 22nd. I was sure that was the day you would be born. 40 weeks.

Seven years ago, I got a call. She said it was time. I nearly ran through the hospital. I couldn't wait to meet you!

Seven years ago, I changed. You were gone. He was here. But I didn't know where I went... I sometimes wonder what happened to me... Where did I go?


Today it was warm. The sun was out. I bought your balloons and I drove to your garden. And then it happened... I just started saying it. Saying it out loud.

"Andrew! Don't forget your backpack!"
"Andrew, what kind of ice cream do you want?"
"Andrew! Go to your room!"
"Andrew honey, what book do you want to read?"
"Andrew... Oh God my sweet Andrew... Do you know how long my heart has somehow continued to beat? Continued to keep me going? Continued..."

How did that happen? How is it I am still here, and you are not?

Seven years.

I said your name over and over because for seven years I've dreamt of saying those things. Saying those words and so many, many more. I've dreamt of calling your name... and of you calling mine.

Mom.

Andrew.

My tears fell today and like those nights that I spent alone calling your name, I wondered if they would ever stop. Seven years. Seven.

But I sang to you.
Blew out your candles.
Wrote to you.
And sent seven balloons with seven kisses to a seven year old who I miss more than anything...

Did you see my message on that balloon? I wonder what the answer is... How can I hold you so close each and every day- and yet miss you so?

Perhaps the answer is love.
Love.
For there is no other word that comes to me tonight.
This night.
Seven years after I first held you, touched you, kissed you.

I love you my son.
Now more than ever.
But tomorrow I will miss you more.

Happy Birthday. Thank Him for the sun. Thank Him for the birds and the butterflies. Thank Him for you.
My baby.

Where it began... Two minutes-

September 15, 2003
Where it all began-

And today I thought about it... This time six years ago- I was different-
I was happy
I was me
I was whole

But in the matter of two minutes my life changed.
It changed forever-
I am happy
I am me
But I am no longer whole

At 10:35pm my life changed- I remember the dim room- the silence- the feeling of him being pulled from my body-
The silence.
And I was changed.
For with him, went a piece of me- never to return- never to be as it was- changed.

At 10:36pm my life changed- the same dim room- the silence- the feeling of him being pulled from my body-
The cries.
And I was changed.
For with him, went a piece of me- never to return- never to be as it was- changed.

One living- one dead- and yet both had such a role in my transformation.

Part of my heart died that day

Part of my heart exists outside of my body-
in the little boy
who lives in heaven
and in the little boy
who lives before my eyes.

Two minutes.
In one- I wanted to die- to go with him- for how could I live without him?
In another- I wanted to live- live for him- for how could I ever leave?

And so it began.
My journey.
My life as a mom of twins that no one ever saw.
My life of reflecting and writing and searching for my purpose- my meaning- my reason.
My life with part of my heart- gone- yet living outside of my body.

It began on September 15, 2003.
My life. A life worth living and sharing. A life that grew and aged and changed. A life that suddenly understood.

It is about lives- living them to the fullest and not letting a day go by where you don't learn and grow and change.
It is about taking a moment-
A moment to pause-
and think about what you DO have- even when your arms are empty- for they didn't leave you alone- while they took a piece of you- they left a piece too.
Peace.
Find it.
Pause-
Just for a moment...

On September 15th I changed.
I'm changing still.
And I welcome it.
For through the letters I've written in his journal- the words I've written here and the thoughts that have crossed my lips- I have changed.
And I am all the more blessed for it.

And yet I still wonder where that 'other' path would have led me on this day... six years later had he lived- close my eyes- I can almost see it...