We Buried Him A Year Ago Today

My baby is dead. He is gone. He is really gone.

A year ago we buried him. Today. Around this exact time.

I remember this part being so difficult for me. I felt fairly collected and at peace during the visitation and funeral. I know this was purely God's grace. But I wasn't prepared for the short ceremony at the cemetery. I didn't want to leave him there. I didn't want him to be put in the ground. Oddly, I wanted to keep him with me. Now I know this is a bit morbid and illogical. But the emotional pull to stay with him and have him with me was so strong. I couldn't believe it. I still can't.

I tried to hide it by introducing everyone at the reception we held at church after the cemetery part of it all to the nurse that took care of Andrew most of the last 48 hours of his life. I didn't know what else to do at it. I didn't know how to act.
It's been a year.

At times it seemed like the one year anniversary mark would take forever to come. And at other times we were surprised it was 6 months or 9 months, etc.

You hear that the first year is the hardest. From there it gets a bit easier.

So here we are.

I don't know what to write.

Although the week went by without much telling it was the one year mark. I think it was particularly because last week was stressful at work. A long week. I am behind. Trying to get caught up and then a last minute proposal that one of my people didn't happen to notice until the day before it was due. Gosh do I hate when they do that. Being one who tries to plan ahead especially in work, I don't understand how one can't. Anyway, so Monday was a 13.5 hour day. And that set the tone of the week trying to keep up with all the other demands. And I'm even down by one person I support right now. The Principal I work with is out of the country. So that made last week somewhat doable. It's when he's around too that it gets really crazy any more.

But now that the weekend is upon us, now that the last milestone of our initial steps in our grieving. The awful process of making the final arrangements. The decisions you don't think about with a baby since this shouldn't happen to a baby. Now it's here. The heaviness. The hurt. The missing. The longing. The things I don't like feeling but they come anyway.

I cried as I went to sleep last night. Again. Almost as usual it seems. Not that I do that daily. It's more in the last few weeks for sure I cry myself to sleep. Pretending I am being held safely.

Hopefully the sadness will lift now that we are past the one year point. Well, not so intense anyway or as frequent. I don't know. Maybe just me being hopeful.

At least I have this hope, and it's what helps, I will see Andrew again some day. I will get to be with him again.