Gravity

Life is so hard and I’m thinking tonight that I never want to forget the gravity of my baby going to Heaven.

That is the most impactful event of my entire life. It defines my soul and my entire being. I am the mother of a perfect, sweet, innocent child in Heaven.

The gravity of that fact alone still drops me to my knees, whenever I have the strength to admit it out loud.

I still have trouble saying, he died. When I refer to his funeral, I always say his service. I cannot, still, after three years, accept the fact that my beautiful baby boy is gone.

Yes, I live life. I have progressed. I manage to get out of bed every day. I hold a job, I’ve sustained a marriage, I have adopted a child.

But I lost my child. My baby. Nothing else will ever be that impactful to my life.

I’m supposed to be planning my 20th high school reunion. When everyone, all 400+ or so that graduated with my class, come together to compare stories, and figure out who’s the most successful, or who has the most kids, I really just don’t care.

I lost my child. The rest of it just doesn’t matter. I also survived a kidney transplant, and am raising an amazing little man, and have a husband who, no matter how deep our stuff gets, still chooses me and our family every single day.

None of it matters. Yes, I am extremely proud of us. But at the end of the day, the gravity of our loss, the loss of my sweet baby boy, still carries more weight than anything else in my life.

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