I wrote this last November.  Every word of it I could have written today.  Sometimes I remember a post, I remember the night I wrote it, I remember the tears that fell, endlessly, as I typed.  I remember how empty I felt after expressing myself, exhausted, deflated, but somehow better.

I remember this post.  Vividly.  Tonight, I ache.  Always, I miss.

***

My words are failing me.

Inside, my heart is broken, my arms are empty, my mind races with thoughts of sadness, disbelief and strangely, gratitude.  My grief is appropriate, but is so often inappropriate.  I ran into an old friend last week and she asked about my kids and their grade levels and she realized that both of them would be in school next year all day long, while I worked from home.  She laughed and applauded and said “you must be so excited to have the house to yourself!”

I nodded politely and said “well… I guess.”

What would have happened if I had said “actually, IT SUCKS.”

Can you imagine?  But, OF COURSE, I didn’t.  I nodded.  Just like I’m supposed to do.

I have so many emotions, deep, dark, explosive emotions inside of me but that’s where they are staying, I can’t articulate my thoughts and feelings and I’m becoming so frustrated with my silence and my inability to communicate, I need to try.

because I miss.

I miss so much of these boys that we love so much.  I miss my life before grief.

I want. so badly to be rocking them to sleep right now.  to kiss their precious lips.  to watch them starting to smile and looking up at their older sister and brother, who, undoubtedly, would adore them.

I need. I need to feel not so alone.  I need to be able to communicate with you, with myself, with my husband, with someone.  But I can’t.  Perhaps a call to my therapist is in order.

I wonder. Where they are right now.  Are they in heaven watching down on us?  CAN THEY FEEL HOW MUCH WE LOVE THEM?  Do they know what we would do to hold them once again?  Do they miss us?  Are they okay?  If they are in heaven, do they call me “mommy?”  WILL I EVER SEE THEM AGAIN?

Oh my God, please let us see them again.

I wonder. What went wrong?  Why did this happen?  Why us?  But also, why not us?

I dream. Of their skin.  of their little fingers, their ears, their eyes and their toes.  Their smell, their sounds, their eyelashes, their smiles.

Their lives.

I ache. All of the time.  With each hour that passes, with each cloud in the sky and leaf that falls to the ground, the beauty of the earth makes me ache.  The precious hugs from my children, the laughter we hear, the hair we smell, makes me ache for James and Jake.

Sometimes, I close my eyes and instead of reliving their short lives with us and remembering the sting of their deaths, the depths of despair and the continuous ache in my heart, sometimes I imagine a life where they are with us, in our arms, sharing our lives, laying on our floors and on our beds, resting in our arms.  I imagine laying with them and watching them breathe, listening to their sighs and pressing my lips on their foreheads.  They lay side by side, so perfectly together, so perfectly with us.  For a split second while imagining this, my heart forgets my sadness.

But it always remembers.

I pray.  I pray for my peace, I pray for my boys, my family, our strength.  I pray for the solitude to end.

I pray that someday, I’ll see James and Jake again.

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