He's On My Mind

It all started last week when Brian and I were discussing Jackson's ears. Where in the world does he get them, we wondered?? I mentioned to Brian that I remembered looking at Shawn in his coffin wondering the same thing. Why do his ears stick out? I thought to myself. So to remind Brian, I went on a search for a picture of him from straight on that would show his ears sticking out a bit like Jackson's do. But instead of finding a picture, I just got sad and ANGRY. That's my usual emotion associated with Shawn lately. It just ticks me off so bad. I have no idea what stage of grief that is and why I've migrated back to it, but I'm there. Why did he have to spend his whole little life hooked up to all that crap?!!! Why did he have to live his short days in the enclosed environment of two NICUs? Why can't I have a normal picture of him instead of a picture of all this tubing, that just happens to have a little person somewhere in there? Ugh. It makes me ill to think how unfair it is. And yes, I am aware that life isn't fair.
And then on Sunday our choir sang at a memorial service at the hospital for kids who have passed away this year from cancer. I didn't have to do it, but I wanted to. It did come with emotional consequences for me though. Brian and the boys came along and it was extremely hard not to just break down and bawl. The only reason I didn't was because of Clayton (he would have gotten scared if he had known I was crying). Brian was doing his best to keep it together as well. I had to totally avoid looking at him while we sang our song because he was back there just about to lose it--it was so, so tough.

I'm also reminded of our loss since the holidays are coming on. I often wonder if anyone else at our family gatherings realizes I see an empty chair during our meals? I guess if they didn't, they know now . . . It's like year after year, my child doesn't get to make it back home for the holidays while everyone else's is there. And now that Jackson is here, it seems even more magnified in my mind. I guess when I'm eighty I'll still be missing my baby. It's just so opposite of what nature intended. A mother is supposed to mother. How do you mother a child who's in the grave?