Turkey. Tears. And a whole lot of Thanks.

Paxton,

Today is the day the entire world stops to do what we should do all year round…pause and give ‘thanks’ for all of the blessings in our lives. There are people who believe positive thinking and gratitude are the answers to life’s aliments. I agree. A positive attitude and posture of gratefulness can help many bleak situations. But I guess gratitude doesn’t come naturally when you are grieving the loss of your only child – and the loss of everything else you loved too. All the positive thoughts in the world aren’t going to change the fact that you are dead. All the positive thoughts in the world aren’t going to bring my little family back together. All the positive thoughts in the world certainly aren’t going to fill the empty chair at the Thanksgiving table tonight.

This is not to say I don’t actively engage in positive thinking. Today alone I had many positive thoughts. I am grateful for the fact that most people will never have a Thanksgiving where their 7-year old niece holds their hand under the table and all-too empathetically whispers, “I miss him too, D.D.” Nor will they know of a toast which is finished with their 4-year old nephew innocently nodding his head while sincerely proclaiming, “Here’s to Paxton’s spirit all around us!” I’m also thankful most people will never have to shamefully throw out an entire side-dish of cranberries, because their tears fell into the bowl before they realized they were standing over it – silently sobbing.

Bring to the table a cornucopia of blessings and I’ll bring you my infinite pain. Let’s put them both on the empty chair where you should be…21 months young…squishing pumpkin pie between your chubby little fingers and putting it in your adorably sweet face.

Asking me to focus on my blessings and not recognize the fact that you’re not here, is like telling me to be grateful I am still able to breathe – even though the atmosphere has run out of oxygen. It simply isn’t possible to be one or the other. That being said, just because I continue to grieve doesn’t mean I am incapable of being grateful for the other blessings in my life. But it is not one or the other. I miss you with every molecule of my being; I would give anything to have you back. Yet I am still deeply grateful for the three little souls who will sit with me at the table tonight. I am thankful beyond measure to have Lala & Uncle Stephen in my life, and also living so close to me. I am grateful for my parents – who continue to provide unwavering love and support through each step of this, the very darkest, walk of my life. I am thankful that I truly do have the most devoted, strong, beautiful friends on this side of the universe. Who, even though they think as much, have still never said, “We told you so…“.

I am grieving. I am grateful. The latter can’t cure the former, and the former doesn’t negate the latter. As a bereaved Momma, I have unwillingly learned the delicate art of holding infinite space for both. My new life is a heartbreaking juxtaposition of contradictions. Just as I possess both the immeasurable love of having you, and the immeasurable pain of losing you. My heart is broken because you are gone, but it is also full because you were here.

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There is never a moment I am not thinking of you…wishing you were here with me, worrying about you…and eternally grateful that you are mine.

I hope you are happy, Little Turkey.

Stay with me, Sweet Boy.

xoox,

Momma

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a spicy monkey. a high-jacked computer. and my day is made.

Sweet Diddy,

One of my girls at school needed to take her test at my desk today. The other 15 places to sit in my classroom simply wouldn’t suffice. While she was at it, she made herself right at home. As she sat at my desk she ate my pretzels, used my hair brush, tapped around on my computer, noticed my Pandora was open, and created herself a new radio station on my account. Why not? When I busted her, I pretended to be mad. Like all my ‘kids’, she knows I (mostly) pretend to be mad at them. Disappointed is all-together different. Mad? Well, that almost always just doesn’t happen. First of all, these spicy monkeys keep Momma’s heart beating. Secondly, they need more love than most others in the world. Moreover, they deserve even more love than they need. And like I said…they keep my heart beating.

It’s going on 5:40 p.m., and I’m still at school. As you already know, Momma need not rush off to the gym, or to the grocery store in order to be home in time to let Lucas out and/or to make dinner….much less to pick you up from day care, get you fed, bathed, and ready for bed in time to snuggle up and read a bed-time story – or three, before tucking you in for a peaceful night’s sleep. Instead, I take my time perfecting innocuous tasks, before aimlessly venturing down familiar hallways, through familiar doors, to a familiar parking spot – straight into an unfamiliar life.

As I contemplated whether I would go to the gym, or just run extra-long when I got home, concurrently further avoiding the transition into a new life I never wanted, a song began to play through my SMART Board. Instantly entranced by the lyrics, I closed the 38 windows I had open so I could see the name of the song and artist. (No. I didn’t do what normally functioning people do, and save the work which I was perseverating over perfecting in the first place. It’s fine. I’ll try again tomorrow.)

The tears which fell from my eyes have already left salt-marked stains on my completely lame, but also completely free, GO ARMY! desk calendar. I instinctively know they will serve as an unlikely source of comfort in the upcoming weeks. As I will recall this moment with heightened precision. For it is one of those rare times…that I know you are with me.

Thank you for helping my spicy monkeys love me. Thank you for helping them embrace my broken spirit, my shattered heart, and my many, many flaws. They are of your most brilliant and treasured gifts yet. Thank you for sending me this song – compliments of the spicy ones, who take the liberty to high-jack my Pandora account, much like they have taken the liberty to high-jack my heart…because they know damn well, it’s the only way in anymore.

Here is your lullaby for tonight. It’s from Momma…and one of her spiciest monkeys.

My arms should’ve been fierce enough to have kept you safe.

Stay with me, Sweet Boy.

xoox,

Momma