Letter to My Third Son

Dear Gregory,

I took today off work. Tomorrow, too. Today is more like my “trauma recovery day” and tomorrow is my “I remember the day I held you day.”

Four years ago during the noon hour on this day I learned that you had died. It was, hands-down, the most horrible moment of my life. Sometimes when I think about it, I wonder why I still shake and almost cry when I think of it, and I can only deduce that it was trauma at the time.

We loved you from the second we knew you were on the way. For some reason I always want to tell you that. It’s like I want you to know how wanted and loved you were from the get-go. We still love you now, of course, but it’s … different. Loving you cannot be physical — I can’t hug you and kiss you like I do your siblings. Loving you cannot be intellectual — I can’t have long in-depth conversations with you like I do with your siblings. Loving you cannot be sensory — I can’t see you and smell you and hear your voice. Over these four years, I’ve often thought about the way I love you still.

I love you with my eyes as they look at my mother’s ring. Every time I see that I have put it on with your birth stone at the bottom, I always flip it so it’s at the top — because I think of you being in Heaven. I love you with my mind every day when the other kids do something cool and I wonder how you would have done that. I love you with my ears when I hear babies cry or I listen to your siblings all playing or talking together (they do that so well — you would have LOVED growing up next to your siblings, they are the coolest people!) I love you with my hands when I pray the Rosary using the one your godparents sent to me on your due date, four months after we lost you.

I love you every second, every minute and every day of my life. I can’t tell you the number of times I think of you every day. “Gregory would be 3, now, and probably driving me nuts!” or “Gregory would be almost 4 and probably getting ready for full day preschool…” or “Gregory would adore his two big brothers — they would have a blast with those cars and the Skylanders.”

So while today is my “trauma recovery day” I dedicated every rep at my workout to your beautiful soul and I am about to go eat lunch with your big brother, Vincent. Thank you for praying for all of us and please keep it up — your mom needs it.

I love you with all my heart.

Mommy

PS: Your big brother, Dominic, asked me to take him to see your resting place today…and since the weather was so nice (70 degrees in February!) I took him. He said some prayers with you. 🙂

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