6 years: less poetic, more integrated, just like yesterday

A year since my last post: a testament to healing and life happening and new intensities taking up space.

I was out with two of my favorite and oldest friends in ‘Brooklyn: the modern Paris of the 30s’ at a tapas bar to celebrate my birthday. My sweet Amy acknowledged Will’s name on her calendar. She was with me that day. She drove down and sat with my mom while I was on the phone with Tom and Will, singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star through the tubes in my throat at a Brooklyn Hospital while Will’s father held him for his last breath in Manhattan.

The biggest blizzard in 100 years the night he was born. The warmest winter on record this year.

6 years since he was born and we are back to the same days of the week: Born just after midnight, 12:01am on February 12 a Sunday. Died 41 hours later on Monday evening…. I watched him leave in the sun setting over New York Harbor.

I was cloudy from the meds and clear from the love of a new mom.  Now I’m cloudy from late PTS and very clear from the love of a mom with one living child and two dead ones.

I was in complete unknown land- living in the shock of a world I never imagined possible. Today I am a seasoned traveler here yet my less frequent visits are nostalgic, wiser and less connected, more sweet than bitter.

I’ve learned that you never know how an anniversary will hit you. I think because I’m having neurological weirdness that is unexplained so I need to keep in check my fear of dying while Lucy is young, it is an excepted blow. I’m really just super sad.

If he had lived, February 12 shouldn’t have been his birthday. June 1st should have. Matty was born in those early weeks- premature and unexpected by most everyone but his mother. He is 25 now and getting his masters in contemplative psychology in Boulder. Thank god one of Tom’s sons lived. Thank god for Matty.

I am in a very different place than 6 years ago. I’m always surprised that despite that, I can slip right back into my old skin- the 30-something mom with eyes of a unsolicited depth, longing for shallower waters.

When Amy mentioned Will’s birthday and I said yes it would be his 6th, I uncharacteristically had little else to say. Amy and Kristin sat quiet with me, holding space for a little and we moved on. Just a it should be.

I miss you Will. I will always imagine you alive at your living age. I wish I was wrestling with sibling issues between you and your sister. I wish there were more stupid sports stuff around my house. I would play hooky with you today. I kind of am.

I love you sweet boy. 

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