Six Months

Six Months. Link would have been six months old today, May 7th. 

It's also been exactly six weeks since he died. 

In any other time of life, six weeks is such a short period of time. Things don't change much. But in the life of a baby, six weeks makes a huge difference. I think of all the things he would be doing right now at six months - sitting up, rolling over like crazy, playing with so many more toys, exploring new food, possibly getting up on all fours. To watch him grow and learn. Progress. That's all I ever wanted. 

Even now, six weeks later, I still have times where I think this just must be a dream. A prolonged vision. Maybe it's like A Christmas Carol or It's a Wonderful Life and I'm being shown what life would be like without my son. I'm supposed to learn things - gain an understanding. 
Cherishing, treasuring every moment with every person that I love - especially my children? check.  Gaining a rock-solid testimony of the Plan of Salvation? check. Getting a taste of the true goodness and love that so many people have for our family? check. Extreme need to ensure the heath & well-being of my children? check. Empathy for others who have lost? double-check. 
Okay - now I'm ready! I'm ready to go back! I SWEAR I will do and be everything I need to be! I will change! Just let me go back!
From Ebeneezer Scrooge: "I am not the life I was, I will not be the man I must have been! Tell me that I may wash away these shadows that might change my life. I will honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year, I will live in the past, the present and the future! The spirits of all three shall be in me! Tell me, kind Spirit that I may wash away my (HIS) name from this stone."

I pray this prayer with all my heart and then I go to sleep. I wake up hopeful. I go into his room... but it is still empty. There is no baby there. His funeral program lies on the front table and confirms that I am still living this nightmare. This is no dream or vision that I will wake up from. Somehow, I am going to have to learn how to live with this hole in my heart. 

Last night for Family Home Evening, we talked about trials. We read "Tear Soup" by Pat Schwiebert. I would highly recommend it to anyone who has lost - or anyone who knows anyone who has lost. So - that's pretty much everyone, right? It is a picture book that tells the story of an older, and somewhat wise woman named Grandy who has lost someone she dearly loves and the process she goes through to make tear soup - to work through her grief. We had a good talk about it afterwards. We talked about how each of us has our very own pot of tear soup. We each are working through our grief differently. Ireland said she isn't making tear soup. She's making angry soup. And McKinley asked what she should do if she needs to make tear soup while she's at school. We watched Link's memorial video. Jason cried. McKinley cried. I cried. And after it was over, we heard the rain pounding on the window and Ireland said "I think Link is making tear soup outside because he misses us so much, too." And so we went outside and felt his "tear soup." 

Today, I've cleared my schedule. I'm giving myself permission to completely feel the ache, the hurt, the hunger. I'm giving myself permission to watch the videos, look at the pictures, read the memories, re-live the funeral, give gratitude for the precious time we had with him,  grieve for what might have been... and significantly contribute to my large pot of tear soup.