You've been gone for just over 8 weeks now. The days slip past on the calendar, one looking much the same as any other. If someone had told me it had been eight days and another that it had been eight years since you died, I could find no reason within myself to doubt either of them.
|4 days old|
As we draw nearer to winter, the hours of daylight wane and the night is longer. I feel tired all the time and have developed the talent of being able to weep with no apparent inducement at all -- though I don't think anyone would challenge me on the fact that your death is enough inducement for whatever tears might come up until the day I die. Grief is a heavy thing, a burden created through an absence, and an aberration. Anyone who has grieved knows down to the very marrow in their bones: it's not supposed to be this way.
It is simply miraculous to me that one day, you didn't exist and then all of the sudden, you did. That you grew from a cluster of cells and developed within me, that I was able to know your life and your movements within me. I was in love with you before I ever laid eyes on you. When I finally did see you, I knew you. It would be wrong to say that I loved you any more in that moment, but upon having the veil removed -- getting to see your face and look into your eyes, and to experience you looking into mine -- I knew without a doubt that nothing would keep me from loving you, from fighting for you, from offering every ounce of will I possessed on your behalf. I knew I would have jumped on the operating table and offered you my own heart if I could. I would not have hesitated.
I've had time now to reflect and think on your short life, to remember you and many of the things that happened. I know I could not have changed the outcome -- but I wish I could have been with you until the very last second you were awake. If I have any regrets, it is that I was not there. You seemed to be doing so well, and the change seemed to have happened so quickly. My presence might not have changed much, but at least I could have been with you, holding your hand and assuring you of my presence and love until the last possible second. Given what you suffered in barely two weeks outside the womb, you had no reason to have a very high opinion of being born, but I hope you knew how much we loved you, how much we wanted you to live and thrive, to hold you, to one day take you home and do all the things that parents dream of doing with their children.
I bet you would have had the most beautiful smile, and the most delightful giggle. I can imagine them, and feel a painful lump rise in my throat every time it hits me that I will never get to see your smile or hear your laughter. And then I cry, and sometimes I keep crying because I have no reason to stop.
You will always be my first, Ewan. You are the one who made me a mother. And even though you don't need me anymore, you will always be my son, and I will always take delight in you.
I miss you so much, my beautiful boy. You have my heart forever.
All my love,