Watching kids at the park

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Mo and I went to the park in the evening yesterday to play on the swing and sit on the big cement frog - something Mo loves to do.  Mo notices the others kids a lot.  He loves bigger kids and they always come over to the frog to play with "the baby".  Mo smiles and giggles at them.  Seeing how much he loves bigger kids breaks my heart.  I know he would love his big brother Max.  I started talking to another mom last night who was there with her two children.  She was new to the neighborhood and very nice and friendly.  Her two boys were 5 and 2 1/2.   I couldn't take my eyes off of the younger one.  He was running around after his big brother and talking so much.  He was up and down the slide and playing make believe games.  Is this how my Max would be?  Would he be doing all of these things?  My heart sank when I heard her call his name..... "Max".  I actually felt a little sick.  I was praying she wouldn't ask me if Mo was my only child.

I really don't feel cut out for this sometimes.  It's too too hard.  I really don't feel like I have the strength to keep it up.  I can't even believe it is real.  And, I know that we lost him a year and nine months ago.  I do.  But to those of us who loved Max most, it feels like yesterday.  It really really does.  And I feel like I am still in the earliest stages of figuring out how to cope in the outside world.  Remember - I spent a whole year indoors.  A full 60% of my time in bed actually.  While I am a year and nine months into my grief journey, I am only nine months into figuring out how to interact with this completely new life - how to interact with people.  Do I interact honestly with them or do I keep things superficial?  I've found that in this new life, I should even keep those closest to me at arm's length.  They don't want to know about what's really going on.  I don't expect anyone to understand - but it is hard - all of the time.  It definitely redefines what I even consider when I say that someone is "close to me".  There are very few in that category anymore, and that's ok - but it takes some getting used to.

Not a moment goes by that I am not thinking about him.  Half of the time I am thinking about being with him, remembering how we played together - sharing smiles and giggles, tickling him, getting him up from a nap, seeing him smile at me from his crib.  I am thinking about smelling his sweet smell and kissing his soft cheeks.  Just the mere memory of him is too much for my heart to take at times.  The other half of the time, I am thinking about how I will tell new people about him, how I will find out what happened to him, how I will protect Mo and future children from whatever happened to him.  My mind spins and spins and spins and it is so exhausting.  I try to focus all of my extra energy on Mo and work and Ted....after that, there isn't much left.  And, THIS is what life is like since its gotten "easier".  

I wish my life were different.  I really miss my Max.


Mo watching the big kids playing at the park from his swing



3 comments:

Taryn said...

What a sweet baby boy, and you are right, he deserves to have his big brother to watch and learn from and to love. It's so heartbreaking. I am SO sorry your Maxie isn't here right now. I can only imagine how devastating it is to live with out your baby. I’m so, so sorry.

Kate said...

Taryn said what I am feeling so beautifully. It is so unreal still (and always will be) that Max isn't here to get to know his amazing brother....so unfair and wrong.

Seth's mom said...

I am so sorry for your loss Abby. It is so unfair. Your boys are so beautiful. I have been following you for a while now. I read your blog everyday. My nightmare began 13 months ago . I also lost my beautiful son Seth suddenly. He was 29 1/2 years old. I miss him and think of him every second of everyday. I like you am trying to find my way. It's like the road we were on has collapsed and there is nothing left. I truly was thankful for my beautiful life. Now I find it impossible to even think or plan for the future. Once again I am so sorry for the loss of your precious son Max. I know your pain. Love and hugs to you.

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