It’s been three weeks today. I hate Sundays now.
Yesterday I realized that I get a double whammy here in a couple weeks. Easter Sunday on the 8th, followed by Elias’ birthday on the 9th. I can’t do this. I don’t know how.
Last night we had a big scare. Ceili Fey started freaking out, yelling for me/us to come upstairs. Jon and I about knocked each other down trying to get to the stairs, thinking the worst. I truly expected to find Noah dead or dying. She meets us on the landing – she’s crying – and tells us that Uber (our big, old, gray cat) just bit one of the glow bracelets that she and Noah were playing with in bed. She’s terrified Uber is going to die.
It took forever for my heart-rate to get back to normal.
Then earlier, Noah looked at a picture of Elias. When I asked him who it was, he said he didn’t know. I was so scared that Noah had already forgotten him. Luckily, tonight when Noah “snuck” back downstairs, and looked at a picture of Elias, he pointed and said, “Bow!” I felt like I could breathe a little bit more then.
I was given a locket shortly after Elias’ death that I have worn several times. Last week, when I was wearing it, Noah kept coming up to see the pictures inside. Since I don’t think they make lockets for little boys, I bought him a 2 Sided Dog Tag necklace from Daddy Dolls – a great website that caters to children of deployed military parents – that I think he’ll love. I also found a place that shrinks photos to locket size so that Ceili Fey can have pictures of Bow for her locket as well.
Perhaps I should be glad that we’ve made it through another day, another week beyond losing our wonderful son. I just can’t. All I can focus on are the things that he’ll never get to experience, or the places he’ll never get to go again… the thought of going on a vacation without him is unbearable to me. I cannot stand the knowledge that I’ll never get to hear his infectious laughter ever again. How the fuck do you just go on from here?? HOW????? And I’m so angry. I’m angry that it was my son! I’m angry that so many other people’s children lived after contracting RSV. I’m angry that there are little 3 – almost 4 – year old boys that are alive right now, and MINE ISN’T. That’s. Just. Not. Fucking. Fair.