2 years 6 months

Dear Sonzee, 

Today marked 2 years and 6 months since you left me. That is 2.5 years without you.  More than half of your life.  I would ask how, but I am no stranger to the speed that time passes.  I made it through the day without any sudden moments taking my breath away.  That is probably because I didn't want to think about the day until this evening.  In a sense, it was nice to essentially be on my own island without anyone else realizing, acknowledging, or maybe even knowing what today was.  It is definitely a double-edged sword. On one hand, I absolutely hate when people ask me how I am doing on a specific date related to you as if every other day of the year is any different for me. On the other, there is some comfort in knowing that others remember, that the day makes someone take a second to honor, that you are on someone's mind a little bit more today.  There is no winning on this grief journey. Never.

I do not quite understand how time has continued to pass by.  I do not understand how the world didn't stop 2.5 years ago.  For me, my life is surreal, spent balancing a before, during, and after, and not fully embracing the after.  It is filled with a mix of extreme highs and lows as I try to compensate for your loss, but never quite adequately. 

I am truly at a loss.  Two and half years ago you were with me, physically speaking. I know mentally you were out of your body 36 hours before.  I have been listening to an audible book about grieving a child, and the story recounts the exact days leading up to their daughter's death and the day of.  It still fascinates me how many details are remembered surrounding the deaths of a child.  I was thinking while I listened to the story how amazing it was this mother could recount the weeks prior with such perfection without knowing her daughter was going to die.  Then I realized, I didn't know how long you would have left to live and I too could recount the last weeks of your life with painful accuracy.  Some moments in life just become permanent.  Thankfully and not.

I feel like I have learned so little and so much in the two and half years since you left me.  I have definitely changed in the time as well, for better and worse. Two and half years ago seems like a dream and a nightmare all mushed into one block of time.  I still manage to wake up every day.  I still manage to put one foot in front of the other.  I still manage to breathe.  I still don't understand how.

In two and half years I have certainly cycled through all of the stages of grief and then some.  I feel like there should be a different term to describe them because if I could describe them visually, it would be one of those clown mazes, complete with mirrors, shaking, steps, strobe lights, and all of the chaos. If I thought at one point the stages would ever be accomplished I wouldn't be doing grief any justice.  This is one carnival experience that won't ever be ending.  

I wish I knew what you have been up to over these last two and half years. You accomplished a decent amount in your two and half years on earth but never hit the typical milestones.  Have you done so?  Did someone put a sticker on your shirt like I had ready for you and then take a picture with you wearing it?  Have you surpassed all of the typical milestones and completed ones I wouldn't even be able to dream of?  Do they have a sticker for flying?  Are there levels to complete like at swim? Have you earned a sticker for visiting me? Do they give you extra points for your mother not realizing it was even accomplished?  Maybe you could ask to have a sticker added for visiting your mother in her dreams?  I promise I would bring you a rock with that painted on it. 

Do you go to school?  What grade are you in? How does the schooling even work where you are?  Where are you even exactly? Is it one specific place or do you travel all around?  Who do you live with?  Are they people I know?  Do you have a lot of friends? Do you have sleepovers and parties together?  What is your favorite thing to do during the day?  What are your favorite foods? Do you still love to swim and the color red?  What is your favorite music to listen to? What music do you not like? Is it jazz like me or country music like aba?  Can you ride a bike? Have you ever been skiing or ice skating? Aba, I am sure would love to know if you like hockey. 

There is so much I don't know about you and what you are up to.  It literally sucks the air out of my lungs.  Your brother is soon to be the age you never turned, he is out of my sight for 8 hours a day, and I get pictures of what he is up to and I know where I can find him.  I know nothing about you.  It is horrible.  I hope that is one-sided. I hope you are not experiencing the same panic wondering what we are doing here. I hope you are in the know.

My heart is still in pieces two and half years later.  Time has not healed anything.  Grief isn't any better, and it certainly is not over.  The thought of another two and half years passing without you here makes me nauseous, despite knowing that will be my future. Please come and visit me in my dreams, it's been too many years since I have seen your face!  

I love you beyond words Sonzee bear!

Until next time.

Love always, 

Ema

22 weeks

Dear Sonzee,

It's been another week down, and an eternity of them to go.  This last week was a pretty rough one, I am sure you could gather as much from my letters.  It was the first week I broke down in the kitchen and your siblings were excitedly telling one another "Ema is crying".  We can blame it on aba because he saw me struggling to hold on to the invisible thread and he got up to give me a hug and that was all it took for me to completely lose it.  I know it is okay for them to see me fall apart every once and a while, but I really dislike any time it happens. 

The one good thing about time passing by is that aba and I are discussing things related to our grief a little bit more, and it appears for once we might actually be on the same page.  In all honesty, it doesn't really help all that much.  All the pages suck.  They all involve some sort of attempt at trying to justify that you are in a better place while soaking up all the amazing moments with your siblings and yet ultimately fighting the incredible pain of missing you all at once.  It's another tough picture to paint adequately.  It's something no one should have to fathom much less endure, and anyone who gets it sadly is living it.

Your entire life was such a struggle for you, you faced so many challenges and you were in some amount of pain probably close to always.  It isn't a life that we would have chosen for you, nor is it one we would wish upon any person.  Yet it was the life we came to know and learn to live with and some days you even put on a smile.  It was so hard for us to watch you go through everything you had to, and I don't believe those who would try to tell me you didn't know any different. I am sure you were exhausted seizing all the time, not being able to eat by mouth, and not being able to tell us about anything you wanted.  I can only imagine the amazing things you are up to now that you are finally free.  I am sure my heart would be beaming if I could sneak a peek through some tiny window into your new world.  This hope of you being the 5-year-old you never could have been here, is what aba and I remind ourselves is what is for the best.   It's our only consolation prize.

Laeya told us over the weekend that you have come to visit her a couple of times.  She said you are "a complete girly girl".  I asked her if your hair was done, and she said "it's always up in the cute pigtails with the bows like nurse Paige gave you".  She said your voice sounds like a mixture of Noam's and Meena's...I wish I could hear it because I cannot really hear it in my mind.  She said you have been hanging around with saba and that you and Harper have had some playdates.  She said she knows you have at least one other friend, but she can't remember if you told her the name or if she just forgot, but you were going to see her later on that day.  I am glad she sees you in her dreams because I know how hard your absence has been for her. 

As always I hope you are staying safe and know how much you are missed and loved.  Until next week.

Love always,
Ema 

"Dondee"

Every night when Sonzee's little brother goes to sleep he requests to read his favorite book, or two, or sometimes three.  They are usually the "poo-poo" book (Old McNoah), "Never touch a dragon", or "10 tiny racers".  He will dictate where we are going to sit in his room.  It used to be us snuggling in his rocking chair, but now it has turned into us squeezing onto his bean bag or him in his little rocking chair and me on the floor.  After we presented him with his "Sonzee and I" book the other day we would ask him if he wanted to read it after his first book at night, both Sam and I have read it one or two times, but it has not been a book of choice.  So last night with his first book choice in my hand, and his milk bottle in his, we begin our normal routine. 

We both alternate singing the words to "Old McNoah built an ark", with the slight adaptation of "McNoam", because it sounds cuter to use his name.  He brings "two tows" and they "moo-moo heee and moo moo da".  Then he gets "two ducks" and they quack (although I won't lie, he totally substitutes an "f" for the first "q").  The book goes on to discuss pigs who go "oinkee", and lunch being served that turns into it becoming quite smelly (hence "poo-poo" book).  The rain starts to fall, the ark goes "oopsie daisy" and then dry land is spotted, "ya-hoo", and of course "e-i-e-i-o".  The book finishes and little brother pops up and walks towards the middle of his room.  I plead with him to come back for another book, he says "Dondee!", I am not sure what he is saying exactly.  He reaches up on the dresser, "Dondee!".  Then he grabs the book.  "Oh...you want the book of you and Sonzee"

"Dondee Book".

So he brings it back to sit down and we begin to read.  I have read this book to him already, I wrote the book, it has only brought a huge smile to my face, except last night when it became requested book #2.  Fighting back the tears he let me read every word not rushing to turn the pages.  He had me read it a second time pointing at her picture every time while I said "Sonzee" and then pointing at his picture while saying "Noam".  It is always a moment like this that catches my breath, one that makes me smile with such joy and happiness, yet simultaneously breaks my heart.  It is one thing to have to sift through my emotions and the pain of her loss, but to know her baby brother aches for her is just such an addition of pain to this already horrible process.  I am so thankful this book will give him (some of) the comfort he clearly needs, but I wish so much that he could just walk into her room or see her in her PPOD and say "Dondee" with the same excitement he does when he sees her picture in his book, like he always did.