Monday, August 30, 2021

82 weeks

Dear Sonzee, 

Another week has gone by, making it 82 weeks.  I feel like maybe things are calming down?  Or maybe it is just that things do not feel so chaotic and my post to you is on time so it feels like I am back on track?  Who knows?  

We spent our first full week in our temporary home.  It really is a beautiful space, but knowing we will be moving again within the next month feels exhausting, especially with all of the holidays coming up. I didn't get a chance to intercept the yahrtzeit candle holder before they packed my desk area, but Mrs. Zupnick picked up a beautiful one over the summer for us so I at least have that as a stand-in.  I went back to the house two times over the week and each time my eyes just filled with tears.  The boxes that had been packed were taken away, the damaged furniture is gone, the house is almost just floors and walls.  12.5 years of construction projects and making the home ours, essentially gone.  I walked to your room, but it was just so hard to go inside, I took a quick picture of it amidst the chaos.  Aba ended up taking down everything off the walls yesterday, he said it was therapeutic, but to me, it seems similar to picking out your gravesite, something I was just incapable of doing.  I know you aren't in the room anymore, but it's where all of our memories are of you...something we can't ever do again.  

I initially thought I would go and sit on the floor of your room after everything was gone and have a good cry, but as I consider it more, maybe it is just best if I never walk into that space again.  I won't know if I will regret that decision until it is too late, but if I use the motto I did throughout your life...and death process, I will just make the best decision I can at the time with the information I have and be confident in it regardless of the outcome.  At this point, my gut says I shouldn't see your bed and chair be removed nor should I see the space without either of those things present.  I picked you up out of that bed and carried you out, I can't go through it (again) with the last places you physically ever were. 

We finally got up to Bear Pines this weekend.  It was amazing to be back there.  It's only been ours for a little over a year, but it's familiar and a constant in this chaos right now.  We laugh as Noam now names the houses, "New York house", "Dallas house" (The Howard's), "Flagstaff home", "Phoenix home", and this one hasn't been named just yet.  He makes us sound like we are super-rich people...Poor guy has been through so much in his 3.75 years.

We went to a butterfly release yesterday.  I am trying to be more open to signs, so much so I have purchased a ton of books about being open to them.  It just feels crazy sometimes to attribute things as a sing, because of course there could be another reason why something happens.  We were given a butterfly to release specifically in honor of you and then they released a final butterfly for all children who had died, and it flew right into Meena's hair.  Then he/she was held by Laeya and then every time we tried to release him/her, she/he flew back to me or back to Laeya or Meena.  It literally walked around on us until it was time to leave and Laeya placed it on a leaf.  I could say maybe there was something wrong with it and it couldn't really fly away, or I could be open to the fact that maybe it was a message from you. There are so many sayings related to butterflies and death, that if I allow myself to be open to it, while maybe it was a coincidence of the situation, it very well could also have been you sending me a message that no matter where we will be, you are always with us.  I mean, this butterfly could have flown into anyone's hair and hung out with any of the other families, but it came directly to Meena, and we once had a grief activity where we wrote down something we wish could tell you and Meena mentioned she would tell you that she saw the butterfly.  I didn't know anything about you two and butterflies but putting it all together makes more of a sign than a coincidence.  Thank you. 

Anyway baby girl.  I will let you go.  Please stay safe and healthy.  Your brother has his first scrimmage this week and a tournament this coming weekend...please come if you can.

We love and miss you!

Until next time.

Love always, 

The Mighty Contributor

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