3 Years

It is true that I have thought of Gregory at least once every day for the last three years. Actually, I’ve thought of him every day for longer than that because while I was pregnant with him, I thought of him every day, too.

This year, Craig and I went to visit him at the cemetery. We marveled at the weather. I notice how no matter what the weather is — it can be sunny and warm everywhere — it is windy and chilly at the cemetery.

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I wish I could say that I have all this figured out. I remember writing my letter to Gregory three years ago, telling him that I was trying hard to figure out why losing him was part of God’s plan. I have to say, that I still wonder. I have greater peace with it now, of course. But as Vincent edges closer to age 5 and our family charges into this new world of “all the kids in school” I still wonder what we would all be like having Gregory here with us instead of there with Him.

What kind of mother would I be? Surely, I would be a different mother who may never have experienced the loss of her child. I most likely would not have taken the risk I did 7 months ago with the switch in career-paths. What kind of kids would I have? Vincent would not be “the baby” of the family and would most likely not whine to get get what he wants (and so easily obtain it). Sarah — ah, my sweet oldest child — she might be having a different experience during her first year of high school having an almost 3-year-old diverting attention. Gosh, all of my kids would be experiencing something different, I think!

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I happened to spend some of March 1 on Gregory Blvd…It was nice

When I came here to write tonight, I wanted to come up with something moving. But after sitting here for awhile, I realize there’s really no way to write about it any better than I did three years ago. As I read through that blog post, I found myself crying…almost sobbing all over again. But the overall feeling I had was relief that I had written it and posted it so that I had it to go back to. I always want to remember everything in that letter to my Gregory. It’s painful as it reopens my wounded heart. But I need it. It helps me remember how real Gregory is, how necessary he is to me. He is necessary for me to remember the pain of our loss. And he is necessary for me to be able to re-read that letter and have a chance to feel that love, longing and loss any time I feel called to it.

I still miss you, Gregory. I still ask that you pray for me. My breath still catches at times and the hole inside of me aches sometimes. I think it will always be that way as long as I am here and not with you.

There is more peace now. Sadness still, yes. I think there will always be some of that. But the peace dulls the edge. I am grateful for the peace.

 

 

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