Monday, February 23, 2015

11 months

“Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them” 
― Antoine de Saint-ExupĂ©ry-The Little Prince

Today is our sweet Easton's 10th birthday that horribly coincides with his brother's 11 month Angel-versary.  I was secretly hoping Easton would be busy picking out everything he wanted to do and would forget about last year.  But, that didn't happen.  After he picked out his cupcakes at the bakery, he said "Mommy, remember last year when we gave out doughnuts with Weston.  That was his last good day mommy."  And it was true and it was all I could do not to just fall into a ball on the floor crying.  Then, I thought about all of the times that Easton was brave for Weston.  So many times, even as young as 17 months old, Easton kissed Weston (W was 9 days old) and said "I wuv you bro".  Maybe, just maybe, Weston was being extra brave for Easton.  He would never have wanted to die on his best friend's birthday.

I warn you, and myself, the next 28 days are going to be brutal.  Watching the end of your child's life unfold is like a dagger to your heart.  I have thought about getting rid of my "Time Hop" and abandoning all social media for the month but that would not be helpful because, so many times, you all uplift me.

Recently, I have been dreaming of wandering the halls at CHOP.  I can't decide if I am looking for Weston or what but it just feels so much like home.  I have even dreamt of sleeping on the plastic couches.

So, for the next 28 days, bare with me.  I still feel so much heartbreak.  I just wish I could have known how to "fix him".  And maybe not consciously knowing that he was dying was a great gift.  I remember in one of the last days, I ran across the street to grab lunch.  I bumped into our Chaplain (who is one of my fav folks) and he said something like "What does your heart say".  I have thought about that so much because that day was the first day that it was come into my mind that Weston might not survive.  I quickly put it out of my mind not speaking of it again because I never wanted Weston to think that I was giving up on him.

I have to remind myself a lot that he is whole in Heaven.  When Adam and I get there, he will be running, free of oxygen, wires, tubes, and hopefully, he will jump into our arms and say "I was always the brightest star in the sky, I never left you"