a year of heartache and hope
One year ago today, at 4:21 p.m., my world forever changed. One year. Twelve long months. 365 excruciating days. In the blink of an eye, a piece of my heart was stolen from me. I will never, ever, be the person I was before. I relive April 20, 2013 every day. I remember each moment of that day like it was yesterday. I remember coming out of the bathroom that morning to find Eric and Jackson snuggling in bed. I remember Jackson walking on the bed, coming over to me with his blanket and bears, wanting me to pick him up and carry him downstairs. I remember thinking he felt warm, but I assumed it was because he was under all of the blankets on our bed cuddling with Eric. I remember getting him a bottle of milk and making my coffee. I remember nestling with him...
a gift
Jackson gave me a precious gift last week. One week ago from yesterday was March 20. The day marked 11 months that Jackson left us to be with Jesus. The 20th of every month is difficult for me. I don’t know if that will ever change. It’s a number and a day that left a hole in my heart to never be filled until I am with my baby boy in Heaven. But on this particular day, Jackson decided to bless me with a moment that would hold me up and shower me with strength to make it through the next 12 hours. I don’t dream about Jackson much. I’ve probably had three dreams about him since he moved to Heaven. But this morning was different. In the moments before I woke up, I dreamt Jackson and I were in Kate’s classroom. Jackson was getting into some of the teacher’s...
my three sunshines
A couple of months before Jackson moved to Heaven, Eric and I started talking about possibly having a third child. It was mostly light talk. We were enjoying the kids so much, and both agreed we could see ourselves with another child. The problem we faced was that I have difficult pregnancies. I’m basically sick and nauseous for nine months straight. Neither of us really wanted to go through that part again. So, we were just at the point of daydreaming of what that might look like. When our world was shattered on April 20, 2013, having another baby was the farthest thing from our thoughts. But several months after Jackson moved to Heaven, my heart started nudging my mind to reconsider having a third child. My heart aches to have Jackson sitting in my arms...
journeying through grief
“I will not hide my grief, as I did not hide my love.” -Lindsey Henke Grief is an interesting beast. I get through my days. I can’t say that I ever have “good” days because right now, that just doesn’t exist. I cry every day because I miss Jackson. Some days are better than others, but then there are those moments that take me by storm and knock me off my feet. I was getting along fine last Sunday morning. We were at church, and I was flipping through the program. They started promoting Palm Fest, which is a very fun family day, the Sunday before Easter. There are lots of games for the kids, a magician, baby sheep to pet and a huge Easter egg hunt. I saw “PALM FEST” in big, bold letters and out of nowhere I just started crying. And it continued all...
a life lesson from my six-year-old
I have a necklace that I wear every single day. It has two charms on it. One is oval-shaped and has Jackson’s right thumbprint on the front, and his name and birthday are engraved on the back. The other is an angel wing that a dear friend gave me after Jackson moved to Heaven. I don’t ever take them off. Yesterday, Kate was staring at my necklace and asked, “Mom, why do you wear that all the time, even in the water?” “This one is Jackson’s thumbprint. I wear it so that I can feel like he’s with me all the time.” “Mom, you know he’s with you all the time.” I just stared at Kate for a minute in silence. “You’re right, Kate. I love you so much!” Wow. The life lessons that I learn from my six-year-old are pretty amazing. Sometimes, I feel like it’s actually Jackson...
wrapping for one…
On Kate’s last day of school before the Christmas break, my “to-do” list is crazy long. I’ve got to get so much done before she returns home. Item number one on the list is wrapping Santa’s gifts. As I sit down and start organizing and cutting and taping with Santa’s special paper, it hits me like a ton of bricks. This year I’m only wrapping for one. Not two. And then the tears start flowing. That’s how it’s been working these days. I’ll be doing okay during the day, getting through, then all of a sudden, out of nowhere, something sparks a memory of Jackson, and it’s all downhill from there. It just hurts. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. Your child isn’t supposed to die before you. They’re not. We’re supposed to be a happy family of four. Jackson...
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