Sunday, October 3, 2021

1 year 8 months

Dear Sonzee,

Today, in 18 minutes it will have been one year and 8 months, an entire 20 months without you.  How ironic that 18 represents life and I am writing this letter to you, and as each minute passes by your life only gets further from me.  Today, for the first time in exactly 2 months I am sitting at your grave.  I am sorry it took this long for me to be able to muster the ability to get in the car and drive to “see you”, to see your stone, to be able to see your name clearly etched staring back at me while I sit on your “hooray for Sonzee” bench. 

I painted you some rocks today baby girl.  I also got to see some new ones I haven’t seen from others who visit you.  My heart hurts looking at the rocks that have begun to fade and the ones with wording scratched off. There’s a part of me that wants to fix them, and there’s a part of me that says I shouldn’t. They represent the time that continues to pass, the weather that presents itself, the life that is continuing to go on without you here.  But it really breaks my heart. 

Thank you for the wind.  It made me smile through the tears I allowed myself to shed in front of you, the ones that I have tried to not have, the ones that make this all so real. 

This month has had its fair share of ups and downs when it comes to my grief.  I still haven’t figured out how to live with it as much as I thought I might at this point.  I still sometimes pause and remind myself you really did exist.  There are times when I am asked how many kids I have and with an unnoticeable twitch I say 5 and then if they ask if they are all at the same school I say yes.  It isn’t a lie, it just doesn’t hold the entire truth. 

This month I realized even more so that people just don’t understand that because you aren’t here physically doesn’t mean your siblings don’t need support anymore.  There are organizations that popped in during your life and then left us high and dry after you left.  It’s a shame that’s how they work.  Maybe it is an oversight, maybe they don’t really understand that during your life your siblings didn’t need the extra attention as much as they definitely need it now? Maybe they feel because you were the reason they were introduced to our family and you aren’t here that they don’t need to continue with us.  Whatever the reason, they should understand that grieving siblings shouldn’t be an afterthought.  It makes me angry, but it’s not worth my energy and we also do not need their assistance…but dropping us is wrong and just weighs on my grief.  After all, at one point you made our family “high priority” so it’s a slap that you are gone and that makes us not even a thought.

I don’t know what to say that in 4 months it will mark 2 years without you.  It’s hard to write, it’s hard to read, it’s hard to understand.  

Anyway baby girl.  Another month without you means that it is another month that you are perfectly whole and amazing. It’s another month you weren’t confined to your locked body.  It’s another month that you were able to truly be free and be YOU.  Another month means that you are able to do everything you couldn’t here.  Those are the thoughts that bring me a sliver of peace. They are what help ease the heartache.  They aren’t a complete fix, but they provide a cushion for the blows.

Please stay safe and healthy. Please continue with your signs and when you feel it’s right, please come and see me!

I love you baby girl!

Until next time.

Love always, 

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