Sunday, February 23, 2014
If I could write a letter...
Not until now did I feel the need to write down these memories and feelings as though I could actually write a letter to you. Maybe it's because life is getting busier and full again. Maybe it's because I feel so far away from you and the phase of my life that you were physically a part of. Maybe it's because I don't always look around for you like I once did. That hurts. A lot.
Oh my dear, sweet Thao. I don't miss you any less than I did the day you left us. Truth be told, I missed you before that. I missed you every time I left you. I missed you when you went to sleep. There were days I wanted to wake you so I could hold you longer. There were days I would snuggle with you or kiss your face after you were asleep. I secretly (or not so secretly) loved it when you would crawl into bed with us. I'm sorry I wasn't more of a morning person. Maybe I should have let you stay up later than I did. (Ok, not really.)
I can still hear your voice, your jokes, your questions. I miss the conversations. Recently, I've wondered what our conversations would consist of if you were here. You'd be 7.5 years old now. I cannot even imagine. Yet, I can. I can imagine you chasing Liam around the house with nerf guns, building forts and tormenting Ava. I can imagine you and Ava playing games while Liam naps. I can imagine that you would be more patient while teaching Ava how to read or teaching Liam his shapes and colors. I can only imagine what crazy creations you'd be making in the kitchen. I sometimes bake late at night because the others don't enjoy it like you did. I imagine I would have let you stay up late on those nights. I loved my alone time with you. I don't often bake anymore. It's just not the same without you.
Sometimes I listen to Daddy working in the basement and I think about how quiet it must be for him. You were such a good helper to both of us. It hurts to think about the dried up play dough and rusted cookie cutters. You were always by our sides, helping or creating, spending time with us.
So much has changed. There are things that we cannot prepare ourselves for, there are things we thought we had. Truly, there is no way to prepare for life with out you. Right now you seem so far away. I promised you we'd be there soon, and we will, but from this side it feels like forever.
Ava told me today she wishes that there was no heaven so that no one would die. She misses you like crazy. If she only knew, if we all only knew, how wonderful heaven is, maybe we'd be more content to miss you.
I often feel cheated. I feel like you and I (and the rest of our family) are missing out on so much. You told me you were going to live with me forever. And you did. And sometimes I think about how often I cried and prayed over you. I think about all the pain, but mostly I think about how overwhelmingly blessed I am to be your mom. Your peaceful spirit and strong-will, your love for life, your passion, taught me so much about myself and about God in all his mercy. The pain is worth it, my son. Each day that goes by, we are one day closer to being in Glory with you, held by Jesus himself and no longer living with the hole of missing you. It's worth every tear, Thao. Every painful conversation. I'd do it over a million times. And we will.
We are so thankful for the 5 beautiful years we had with you.
I love you, my Thao.