I’m sitting here watching the Academy Awards with Patrick and Madeline. My mind keeps flashing back to 2 years ago, sitting in the hospital room, absentmindedly watching the Oscars trying to feel “normal.” We ordered pizza and sat there staring at the tv. I let the mix of pain meds and Xanax take over and fell asleep somewhere in the middle. All I wanted was to get out of that hospital. To get away from that nightmare. I wanted desperately to feel normal.
Thing is nothing has ever been “normal” since this day 2 years ago. This is one of those days that I wish I could just black out on the calendar and pretend it doesn’t exist.
But it does.
Two years ago this morning, I held my son for the first time and the last time all at once. I watched my sweet husband do the same.
I woke up this morning and the scene looped in my mind. I could almost sense his tiny weight in my arms. I could smell his sweet baby smell and feel his tiny head of hair against my cheek.
I’m grateful that I can remember what he looked like. What he felt like. But, oh, how those memories hurt.
So tonight, like every night, I remember Joshua and try to remember that the pain is great because the love is great.