It has been one year exactly today that I dressed you up with your sisters in our Canada Day gear and introduced you to our family tradition. It’s so hard to believe that three hundred and sixty five days ago I bundled you up in my arms and held you as fireworks exploded around us, completely unaware that our time was closely coming to an end.
Five days is what you had left with our family. What we had left to hold you, kiss you, and sing to you. Five days left for your sisters to play with you, talk to you, and lay with you. Five measly days was all we had left to make the memories we were going to need to last us a lifetime without you.
One moment was all it took for your heart to beat for the very last time. One moment was all it took for your very last breathe to leave your lungs. One moment was all it took for the world as I knew it to be torn apart. A moment that caused me to realize that my most precious treasures on this earth could be taken without notice in an instant and that I needed someone else, someone bigger than me to guide me through.
Forever is what you received the moment you left this earth. Forever is where you were that morning, six days from now when I frantically picked up your lifeless body. Forever is where you were as Daddy and Grammy pressed on your little chest desperate to save you. You didn’t feel the pain that we did. You don’t share the grief that we do. You are painless, sorrow less, you are happy. Forever. Forever is what you have shown me….because of you and the God that has held me through, I now have forever. A place where no amount of years, no amount of days, and no amount of moments will be able to separate us.