You would be nine today.
But now you are nine and its been a whole lifetime since I've seen you and known you. And I'm clinging to what I knew because I don't know what else to do. So I've got a dinosaur tablecloth spread across the kitchen table in your honor, J, and later this morning Little Lady and I will go and get the dinosaur balloons. And we are making chocolate pudding cake.
We are going to hold on to your memory a little tighter today, when we all wish we were holding on to you, my boy. I dream of what it could have been, what it should have been like. How I'd take your picture in front of the blue door to show how blue those beautiful eyes are. And your fiery red hair would flame in the sun. And when you smile, your laughter would fill the sky with joy.
I reach to hear your laughter as I take the picture, but it is not you in your nine year old glory, but the faint memory of your laugh when you were two, because there were no more laughs after that. Not here, at least.
I know this looking back and dreaming on what should have been is no good. But some days the longing for you and the life we dreamed of just pulls me in. Oh if only. If only.
I know that looking forward to what will be is better. And even though you were only three when we last got to sing Happy Birthday to you on this earth, I do not despair that it is over. Someday I'll see you again. And I will get to know you again and hold you again and sing to you again and I will never have to say goodbye ever again.
"We will not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can been seen but what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal." 2 Cor 4.16-18
Happy Birthday, Jameson. I miss you with all of my heart and looked forward to the day we walk together with Jesus.