This is his sunset done in Australia by a very nice photographer who also lost a child. Part of our internet dead baby club which sucks. This sunset, along with his Molly bear, windchime back in Fairmont, angel statue are beautiful milestones. Milestones in his life, milestones which he will not be a part of. I love creating memories for him, I just want to be creating memories with him.
Life without him is such a two way street. Grief consumes everything. My life has been infiltrated by my grief for him. I looked at pictures from when we were pregnant with him but the only thing I could think of was how did I not know we were going to lose him. Those wonderful, innocent memories are gone. I want to be able to look at pictures of me finding out, pictures of us at the beach and be like 'these are moments with Marcellus.' But all I can think is wishing I could be back there, to go back in time and relive those moments. Fleeting, happy moments that I did not know what soul crushing grief is like.
But I cannot go back in time. At least not yet. I am stuck here. I am stuck living with this every day. And I do, I live with it. Grief has become me, changed me into a different man. A better man? Doubtful, but definitely different. I worry my friends and family will abandon this new me. I can recall how I acted before Marcellus, and what my friends took to define me and I think now that I will never act like that again. I have become more sincere, more real. What if my friends who knew me throughout the years say that this is not the person they are friends with and abandon me? I am so worried about that. Marcellus abandoned me, will my friends too? What about my family? Blood is forever but emotions are strong. Maybe I am making too much of this. I am letting my grief infiltrate my relationship with family and friends. I am changed, but that does not mean I need to try to change back to who I was in the past.
I need these memories of him, I need to create new ones with his name. I will never be able to cry out his name to him as he plays in the yard, to see his name written in school papers or even in finger paint when he is learning how to spell it. I am haunted that I will never hear his laugh, or hear him say "I love you daddy," I need these memories to feel like I am still being a good daddy. The best daddy in the world to my perfect little angel. Wow, that cliche never had such a literal meaning until now. I have an angel, who picked the sunset, influenced what kind of windchime to buy for his grave, and lets us know that he loves us in signs we can interpret.
I miss him, looking at his sunset does not make me miss him any less. It is not about trying to lessen my grief, it is about trying to bring him closer to me. I love my son so much and always will. I will never pass up a chance to show people how much I love him.
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