Dear Conor

March 28, 2017

 

Today we went to My Gym and there was a little boy there, wearing the shirt you wore pumpkin picking. He was 15 months old, just 2 months younger than you were when you died. With every step he took, I saw you in his shoes, thinking what you would be doing if you were at the gym with us. Tessa has spent some time with him before, but she was mesmerized by him, following him around the gym, wanting to play with him like she would with you. It made me so sad to think of what you both have lost, your best friend, your eternal play mate. But then I thought maybe that was you sending me a sign, reminding me of that special day we had together, which I will always cherish.

 

It has been 5 months and 2 days since I saw you and my heart seems to keep breaking with every second that passes. Some days I feel like I have cried a million tears and there are none left and some days I feel like the tears just don't stop. Some days, I am the crazy lady crying at the dry cleaner's (today) and other days I am walking through my day, smiling, outwardly normal appearing, while breaking inside. 

 

But I am trying to learn from Tessa. I know she is hurting too. She asked me if you wanted to go on the truck that day to heaven. I didn't know what to say. I don't want her to think you are sad but I also don't want her to think you wanted to leave us. But, I love that she is refusing to let that change the bond you have. You are still her best friend, her favorite play mate, her forever partner in crime. I walked past her room the other day and she was throwing her stuffed animal in the air, shouting "Catch Conor, catch." At first, I was heart broken, thinking how lonely she must be and then our counselor asked, Did she seem happy and I said she seemed so happy. She was laughing so hard. And it made me realize that you were there with her, playing with her, as you always did, happy to do whatever made her happy. She has the most natural ways of incorporating you in everything we are doing. When we are in the car, wherever we are going, she immediately mentions that you are going to the same place in heaven. If she is going to school, then "Conor is going to school today too Mommy." If it is raining here, it is raining in heaven. 

 

On the 25th, it was as if she knew there was something about that day. She asked for your elephant towel, which has been in the linen closet since you died. She asked to lie in your crib. I think she was trying to be as close to you as possible.

 

She asked me the other day to open up the clouds so she could see your face. How I wish I could do that. I miss your smiling face so much. I miss your voice, your laugh, your silliness, your cuddles, especially your cuddles. Every night, when we lie down to do story time, I feel the emptiness on my lap, where you would be sitting at least momentarily before you would pop up and do something silly to make Tessa laugh. You lived to make her laugh. Tonight when we sat and read your book to her, she kept repeating those last lines, Love, Your Conor. She kept saying My Conor. And you were and are truly hers forever.

 

I love you baby. I miss you every second of every day. 

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