The Calm Before the Storm

Tomorrow is it.

Six years since my precious little boy went to heaven.

How can that even be possible?

Every year on the night of June 30, I think back to 2008... My two boys were up in Iowa with Brad's parents, waiting for us to come join them for a fun 4th of July...  Brad and I ate fajitas for dinner...  We moved furniture because our carpets were being cleaned the next day... THE NEXT DAY... I still hate getting my carpets cleaned.

Every June 30 I want to scream back at the person I was.  I want to tell her: THIS IS IT!  Life as you know it will never be the same.  This is the last time you will drift off to sleep feeling full and complete.  Enjoy these last few hours.

Sometimes I can picture myself on the morning of July 1, 2008 - the complete blindside.  The phonecalls, the panic, the emergency plane ride, the prayers.  I watch myself like a movie, and wonder, "Is that really ME?" 

Then I remember. 

Six years later, I'm proud of how far we've come and where we are. But most days, I still think about my little one all day long.  Tomorrow is no exception...

Baby Nash...
Six years is way too long, Buddy.  How has it been over 2,000 days since I've had you in my arms, looked into your big blue eyes, and felt your tiny fingers around mine?  How have I lived so long without you?
Even though we can't see you, I know that you're right here.  I know that no matter how far apart we are, or how many days have gone by, you are just a breath away.  I see you in your brothers and sister.  I see you in your Daddy.  I see you everywhere I look.
Tomorrow we are going to celebrate your life, sweet boy.  Our family is going to be together (like we always are on July1st) and give thanks for YOU.  You have impacted each of us in a profound way and we are grateful to you for that.  You are a constant reminder to fight hard, to live well, and to love deeply.  I'm so incredibly proud to be your mama.
Nash, as I write this, I can see across the lake to the cemetery... And the ache in my heart is almost too much.  It's nights like this that I wish so much I could just hold you one last time.  Just one more kiss.  One more squeeze.  One more whispered, "I love you."
I miss you, Buddy.  I miss you so much.  Please look down on us tomorrow.  Although it may seem that we are sad, it's only because you are loved so very, very much. 
Good night, my little Nash.  I love you always.
Mommy