Missing him...

I haven't been there in awhile.  Weeks honestly.  My son's 2nd birthday knocked the wind out of me.   A date on the calendar ripped at the scabs on my soul in ways I can't explain.   Every since my few visits around his birthday,  the pain had just been too horrific to visit the cemetery.

It's almost 2am and with all my might I'm resisting the urge to grab car keys and go.   I need to be close to him.  The feel of the grass on my cheek seems to be a distant memory.   Collapsing on the very earth he is buried beneath is the only action I experience that quantifies the sorrow my heart carries every single day.   It's my equivalent of checking on a sleeping child.  the difference being for 20 years every time I checked,  they were still alive.  I've lost that blind faith for the rest of my life.

I went to say to a friend that it's so nice to have everyone home tonight,  but the reality is that will never happen.   I will never have all of my kids home together.  It's a twisted road of words I'm  attempting to navigate.   How do I respect my son if I don't acknowledge his absence?

So tonight I'll stare at the ceiling for a little bit longer.   Tears burn my face in a way only endless tears do.  I miss him.   Yet somehow my heart will keep beating until morning.  Then I can honor him by loving his sisters and working my hardest to be an example of how we want the world to #doitforcj.

But tonight,   I miss him.

Just like CJ...

Another dead baby in the news.   That's how WGN headlined the end of a short life.   "Another dead baby...".  These headlines hurt me beyond understanding. The one found in Chicago today was 2 months young. 

Like so many other people in this world,  I would step forward in a heartbeat to hold that baby and raise him/her as my own. But maybe my vision is a bit different.  Of course I would welcome him into our lives as a beautiful,  living child.   But with that window passed,  my heart screams for something more.

That baby has a name.   God brought that child to this earth with purpose.   That lifeless, still child rests in a morgue or medical examiner's office.  At this moment,  he/she is just like CJ.

I pray that angel slipped out of this world peacefully.  And equally,  I wish I could swaddle the earthly remains.   That angel deserves his final moments to be held in loving arms,  surrounded in a soft blanket, and honored.  Just like CJ.

I'M BLESSED.   SO ABUNDANTLY BLESSED.

Although our story has broken my soul in ways that can never be repaired,   I had my moment with him.   I can relive the heartbreak of time taken from us,  or focus on the sweet moments we had.  CJ came into our world in a calm and quiet room.  He was swaddled, kissed, adored, and honored.  He was loved and cradled by family. His sweet body was there to remind us that his soul would live forever. 

When I hear of "another dead baby", I pray someone picked them up in loving arms as simply a baby, swaddled them in comfort,  marveled at their sweet face,  and honored the existence of such an amazing being.

Because they are just like CJ.