Jameson loved to eat paint.
He loved markers too.
He would bite the tips off and the markers would bleed into his mouth
and it made him so happy. It used to drive me crazy, but now it is like
finding buried treasure when I find a marker with no tip. I smile and
show J's marker to Little man and he shakes his head and laughs. He loved
to be messy.
Seriously. How can you not smile? Especially when you don't have to clean up the mess!
We had three years with our son. Three years of fun memories and sweet
moments. Three years of adventure and love and happiness to remember.
Three years of memories that have to last us a lifetime.
Little Man has this new thing -he loves to give me a certain number of
kisses and hugs to get me through before we part for preschool or
bedtime. And he loves it when I give him a dozen smooches before bed to
get him through the night. It is so cute, this idea that the more you
have now, the longer you can go without. But it doesn't really work
that way, I think. If we had four years or fourteen years or even just
four months it would still be the same and never be enough to get us
through. He is gone and it aches no matter how many memories there are.
And looking at the pictures and talking about the funny times and
remembering the awesome love that we shared is so bittersweet. Some
days it doesn't feel like he was ever real and I have to work to
remember his laughter and look at the pictures until I can feel the
still-so-raw and bleeding scar on my heart. Other times he is in my
mind so vividly it seems like he was really just there and I almost want
to look around the corner to make sure that the laughter wasn't really
here. And still other days I can't get past the horror of the last four
months of his life and I will forever be tormented with wondering if we
did the right thing. He suffered so much and how could we let it go on
for so long? But how can you not cling to even the thinnest threads of
hope? How can you not hope for and believe in the miracle? How do you
know, when it isn't black and white? How do you ever know?
It sometimes feels like all that is left are broken hearts and memories.
He was only three years old. And we will miss him for a lifetime.