The crisp morning air welcomed me as I stepped outside, hot tea in hand. As I sat down on my cool porch, I noticed clouds covered the sky. There was no way I would be able to see the sun light up the sky in all it’s brilliance. I was disappointed as I realized I wouldn’t be getting the beautiful colors that we would expect from a sunrise. But I sat and waited waiting to see the sun poke through as I let hustle of the world go on around me. I thought of the morning Jensen was born. It was the last time I watched the sun say hello to this side of the earth.
As I impatiently waited for the perfect shot to capture my grief and love for Jensen this morning, I asked him just to give me just a little light today. One minute later, Leo was meowing loudly from the window. I walked over to calm him down through the screen and he stopped. I looked back to where I knew the sun would be rising and saw just the perfect amount of light. The sunrise I dedicated for Jensen was in turn dedicated to me by a special little boy in heaven.
Gnadenhutten, OH – 7:22am
In the hospital, as I watched the beautiful pinks and orange fill the sky, I couldn’t believe the sun could rise after my universe darkened. I almost hated that life could go on, that April fifth was just another day to the world. It was my intention, on that day, to live everyday that followed filled with love for Jensen. That no matter what was thrown my way, I could wake up the next morning and the sun would still rise to encourage me to move forward. On this morning, I felt that encouragement even when I saw the grey skies. That sky represented my grief, clouded and dark. As you all know, Jensen has been my light in the darkness through the past six months and the light shone through this morning. Perfectly capturing my grief.
This perfectly, imperfect sunrise is dedicated to Jensen and all the babies that are no longer here with us. October is for him, all his friends, and the families that hold their precious babies in their hearts.