Letters to Alfy, 3rd Birthday

Dear Alfy,

Happy 3rd birthday in Heaven, by dear, sweet son. I am missing you so terribly today. I miss you everyday, but today, it touches a place that I cannot describe. My arms ache to hold you. My ears are deaf with silence instead of filled with your laughter. I miss you so much.

Dad and I think of you often. Your toybox sits on the living room, filled with the things we have for you. I will add your 3rd birthday card to it today. Don't be upset, I don't ever write in them, I'm not sure why, but it just feels better to leave them as they are for you. 

We are trying to teach your brother about you. I want to know his older brother is watching over him. I think you two would have been very different. I think you would have been much like Dad, dark olive skin, dark, dark brown hair and a smile that would light up the room. I think you would have been a bit more outgoing and a charmer, up for anything and a fantastic story teller. Your brother, well, he got my hair and light skin and is so much like me at times it's scary, shy and slow to warm up, stubborn, picky when it comes to food, but also full of love for those he cares about (as I'm sure you would be too). I wish you were both here to fill our home with your laughter and shouts and occasional fights. But, because you are not here to do those things, we will do our best to fill our home with you in other ways.

I'm going to try to start on some new adventures this year, adventures inspired by you and for you. I'll keep you posted on them, although I suspect you always know what's happening.

I hope all of our family is taking good care of you and really have no doubt they are. 

I love you, soooo much.

Mom

Nearly 3 Years

Checking in, can't sleep. I've realized that I will never be one of those people who can maintain a blog on a regular basis. My writing will come out sporadically and if I have to write, like at work sometimes. Oh well, I can live with that.

But, I think it's nice to check in once in a while. 

We are less than two weeks out from Alfy's third birthday. I can hardly believe it, 3 years. Where has the time gone? In addition to Alfy being gone for almost 3 years, he has a little brother who is already 1 1/2 years old, Vinny. I love both boys so much.

I constantly live in this paradoxical existence, of being so happy in the present with Vinny, watching him grow and learn, making him laugh, enjoying life with him. But there is this other side, a sad and mournful side that is always lurking, not in a bad way, but just there under the surface. Sometimes I don't even notice it anymore. I feel guilty when that happens. Am I forgetting about Alfy? 

It's amazing what the last three years have brought. Two beautiful boys, one who is not here, one who is and so much love in my heart for both.

Whirlwind Month

It's been a while.  I'm sure you've noticed, I did not finish the Capture Your Grief project.  I was gung-ho at first but started to fade.  The past month has been a whirlwind in our household.

We've sold our house, twice, and have lost both contracts for reasons beyond our control.  We are now hoping to be at sell number three, I really hope third time is a charm.  To keep a home show-ready with two full-time working adults and a one year old who loves to touch/lick everything is nearly impossible, but somehow we've managed.  We've even gotten comments on how nice our home is, who knew?

But...I'm ready for it to be done.  We have a home that is waiting for us, we just need to get there.  I'm ready to live with all of our stuff again, especially the remnants of Alfy, his toybox and the photos of his gravestone.  It feels like we aren't representing our whole family during this sale.  On the other hand, knowing what I do about people and how surface level they are, I can't imagine prospective buyers wanting to look at a photo of a child's gravestone as they walk through our home.  With that end, though, all photos in our home are gone right now.  Ready for them to be back.

I will miss this home terribly.  There are so many important memories held in these walls.  There is an irrational part of me that feels like the walls will hold on to the memories I so desperately want to keep.  Vinny's and Alfy's room will be the hardest to clear and leave.  That room holds more emotion and has seen me at rock bottom and on top of the world.  I will miss our deck too, especially sitting on the steps.  And our kitchen, and the living room and our bedroom.  All of it.  It has been such a wonderful home for our family.  I hope the next to move in will treat it with the respect, care and love it deserves.

And...I really want to be done with this whole house selling process.  It really kind of sucks, in case you haven't been through it.  

Oh, and thanks for sticking with me.  I will probably continue to be sporadic on this site.  I just don't make blogging a priority right now.  That's okay by me, but I don't plan on disappearing completely:)

Capture Your Grief, Day 18: Gratitude

Day 18: 

I am a bit behind and have missed a few posts. But I wanted to share that I am so grateful to have this amazingly by my side. He threw me for a bit of a loop this past week, but we made it through and I hope to be fortunate enough to grow old with him. Love you Tony.

I will probably not get every post from this point forward but I'm okay with that. Not all of the topics have spoke to me or they have and I don't have the energy to commit to them right now. 

Either way, please forgive me for skipping days here and there. 

Capture Your Grief, Day 15: Community

Day 15:

We happened to be in the hospital this year with my husband. Luckily, the hospital gift shop had a battery powered candle. The light even flickered. This candle is for Alfy and all the other young souls gone too soon. I love you little man.

Peace to all moms and dads tonight that have become a part of this community. 

Capture Your Grief, Day 14: Dark/Light

Day 14: Dark/Light

Today I took the picture somewhat literally and took a pic of the dark window of my husband's hospital room against the light window treatment. Not an ideal place to be. We drove here, unexpectedly on Monday evening. The drive was so similar to when we went to the hospital to deliver Alfy after finding out he was gone, it brought back the early dark side. This time, though, I have a bit more light, a bit more hope. My husband and I survived Alfy's death and birth (although at times it felt like we wouldn't). I have a confidence, given to us by Alfy, that we will survive whatever this is too. I'm not saying it won't suck, because it already does, but we have each other and our boys and family who will help us through.

Capture Your Grief, Day 13: Season

Day 13: Season

Alfy was born in the spring, a time when everything is so full life. I find it almost cruel his life was taken, when everything else was being given so much. The day we found out he had died, it had been beautiful. I wore capris and a light sweater that day, which was a bit of an oddity as it usually isn't quite that warm in early April. But I live in a state where you never know what you will get. I don't have a picture from that spring with me right now. But, here is one from this past spring, taken 2 years and 6 days after he was born. In this photo you'll notice the trees are still barren. They weren't like that two years ago, quite the opposite actually. They were full and beautiful. The trees are much like my grief, ever changing and never knowing quite what it will be like.