I didn’t really have a clever title for this post, but this date has been circling in my head since I realized what it meant.
Seven years ago, I had no idea that the little baby inside of me was going to die the next month. I had no idea that I could be a grieving mother. Never in a million years did I ever think my boy would just be gone. I looked forward to being his mom and watching him grow and just having him with me always.
After he was born… I can remember dreading the fifth of every month. It only marked another month without him. In someways it always will, but with time, the reminder of time has lessened.
Until today, when it felt like all the 5ths of the past few years weighed down, heavily, on my chest.
I wish I had the right description word to even try to explain how I feel. There’s just really none that even come close. It hurts and I know it always will. I walk around with this giant Jensen sized hole in my heart. Mila does too. She misses her brother that she never met, but they still have this crazy connection. She says he’s the moon and sometimes I believe her.
He’s like the moon in some ways, always watching over us, there even when we can’t see him, and always the light when there’s darkness around.
The gravity of seven years pushes and pulls me the way the moon does to the tide.
My heart will always be broken from losing him. There will never be a day I don’t think about him. He will always be the best thing that’s ever happened to me and his death, the worst.
I never thought I would make it this far after losing him. The pain, heartache, and knowledge that he’s never coming back is just so much for a person to handle. I knew it’d never ‘get better’ or I’d be completely healed or having another child would make it ok. There is just no way to prepare for knowing your child has died and you have to pretend to be normal every day after that.
In less than a month, he’ll be seven. I wish I could know what he’d want his birthday party to be like or who his friends would be. I’d love to know his favorite activities or if he’d have a cereal obsession like Mila. As much as I complain about the laundry, I wish I could fold his clothes and wash the extra dishes. I wonder what show he’d want me to put on or see if he’d compromise to watch what Mila wanted to watch instead.
Then there’s the even smaller things – like when would he have lost his first tooth and what would his smile look like with teeth missing. How would he walk and what would his footsteps sound like? I want to know everything about him and how he would be now with all our memories, but it’s possible.
This is what March 5, 2023 is like for me. It’s sad and isolating and a lot of me pretending to be what I need to be for the people around me.
As I sit here typing and crying and just imagining, I know I’m doing what I need to be doing as Jensen’s mom. He wouldn’t want me to be sad, but this is part of loving and honoring him. This is what it’s like to be a grieving mother who’s son’s birthday is a month away.
And one more thing… love never dies. No matter how much times has passed and even though that pain is still there, not once have I questioned the love I have for my Jensen.