EIGHT YEARS

How can anyone describe losing a child?

Everytime I pack away clothes too small for my oldest son, I think about how they would have gone to Mitchell next.

Everytime I see my son with a boy Mitchell's age, my heart aches for not only my loss, but the loss experienced by my son.  He will never get to have a little brother to hang out with.

Everytime we pile in the van for a drive somewhere, I have the momentary worry that we've forgotten one of our children.  I can imagine him sitting back there with his brother and sister teasing, fighting, and laughing.

Every February my heart feels anxious.  It's his month.  Grief kicks into high gear and I find myself feeling nervous, sad, tired, and reminiscent.  My body literally aches to be with him again.

This February would have been his eighth birthday.  What I wouldn't give to have an eight year old in the house!  What I wouldn't give to watch two of my sons playing basketball games every Saturday.  What I wouldn't give to set up bunk beds in our new home for my boys and listen to them talk late into the night.  What I wouldn't give to hear of two boys' adventures every day when they come home from school.  What I wouldn't give...

But as much as I'd like to give, I cannot.  It is done.  He's gone.  Another birthday without him here to celebrate, but one year closer to being with him again.

Happy Birthday Mitchie.