which I guess makes sense, since it was the end of March in 2008 when you had to leave us.
It was grey, really grey, with lots of clouds in the sky, a cool breeze, but all the snow has melted off the ground.
I can hardly believe it has been almost 2 years. I rarely cry anymore, but I've spent a lot of the last month or so still kind of angry about the fact that you died. Two or three times in the last year, I've gone to the grief support group that the hospital sponsers. Someone was saying that it helps them to remember that God has a plan for our lives.
That thought doesn't bring me peace. I just can't wrap my mind around the thought that you dying was part of a plan. Or that I needed to have it happen in order for my plan to be fulfilled. Or what I could possibly learn from losing you that I didn't learn when I had the 13 week miscarriage in 2006.
Most of the people that I know from church have 4 children. Most of them had their 4th in the last two years. It is so unfair that I didn't get to have 4 living children. There are many people who have moved in in the last two years who don't know about you and when they see our family sitting in the pew, they don't even know that I didn't choose to stop after 3 children.
And so many, so many people that I've talked to that have lost a child - to miscarriage, to stillbirth, to SIDS, they all went on to have another child. It was so hard to know that not only had I lost you, but that I would never, ever have another child.
Your brother is healing. He was only 3 when you died, and he had only known about you for 4 days when you died. But he was so affected by your death. I have worried so much about him. But while he still talks about you, still tells people about you, he mostly talks about things that 5 year old boys like - cars, blocks, superheroes.
It is almost your birthday. Your second birthday. I still think of you every day.
